Batman Beyond the Movieerrthe story
by BabyKakes
Summary: Yay! Chapter 15 now up! We're getting closer to the end now, lol. My own interpretation of a live-action BB movie.
1. Chapter 1

Note: If they made a Batman Beyond movie, how do you think it would go? Well this is my little interpretation. Also you might want to know that if you find some weird things that are different in here than what's seen in the show, remember that every time they make a movie about something (comics, books, etc.) they always change it to make it more movie-wise instead of series-wise. Get it? :-D  
  
  
  
  
  
OTHER BB. WORKS BY ME (on ff.net):  
  
- 'FIRST CHANCE'  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Prologue  
  
  
  
I'm getting too old for this.  
  
It was the first thing he thought about every time he went out. Every night he would get dressed, check his gear, and step outside. And the same thought would cross his mind, haunting him, lingering like a ghost.  
  
How much longer is this going to last?  
  
Batman liked to pride himself in his agility and strength, particularly in his genius when he had created the new batsuit. He was more limber with the new design, more capable of things he could only dream of when he first donned the original suit so many years ago. It made him feel younger, stronger.  
  
Lately though, even the suit couldn't prevent the inevitable. His age was effecting him, with or without the suit. And he hated the feeling. He hated it with passion. Yet it was that same hatred that drove him out every night. The want to prove to himself that age couldn't stop him. Age could never stop the bat.  
  
Well.now it was.  
  
He perched atop one of the tallest buildings of Gotham and peered down at the street. It was past midnight but the city was still alive. The high rooftops were one of the darkest spots to be and he liked to be there. To feel the city beneath him, to feel the freedom he always enjoyed as the bat.  
  
This time, he wasn't feeling quite as enjoyable as he might have liked. Over the past few months he had noticed a stiffness in his body whenever he moved, the need to work harder to do the simpler things. He had tried telling himself it was nothing, and spent several hours in the workout room to prove himself. He had only succeeded in getting tired quicker and making the stiffness increase. It was times like these he wished Alfred were still alive.  
  
He let his mind wander briefly, and almost didn't catch the scream.  
  
It was a woman's scream, coming from the street below. Even from his altitude he could still here her thanks to the latest adjustment to the suit, and he was off the rooftop. He leapt over the side, feeling the air rush up on his sides, feeling the split seconds of nothing as he bolted straight for the ground.  
  
At the last minute he unleashed the wings. Extending his arms he pressed the trigger installed in his right glove, and the wings came out, catching the wind and softening his fall. He landed almost noiseless on the ground, staggering for a quick second to regain balance. It took him a little while longer than usual to look around for the source of the scream.  
  
The alley.  
  
He darted around the corner, barely visible in the darkness as he heard a door slam fifty yards away. The woman continued to scream until he heard a sharp slap. There was one last cry, then silence.  
  
Batman quickly went down the alley, slinking through the shadows like he wasn't even there.  
  
  
  
Chaz Thompson considered himself a man not to be easily reckoned with. He knew the ins and outs of Gotham city as well as he'd gloat to any of his friends, and had evidence to back that up. Never mind the fact that he stole money and killed people and kidnapped important women for ransom. He considered himself a working man.  
  
He looked down at Kylie Marshal, the blond anchorwoman from the CMSB newstation. She was in her mid-twenties, very beautiful and very rich. She had to be one of the highest paid anchorwomen in America.  
  
Which was why they had kidnapped her.  
  
It hadn't been hard, actually. All he had to do was send some of his men to follow her for several days, learn her schedule, figure out where she was at what time. Then all they had to do was take her when no one was watching. Easy as pie.  
  
She wasn't looking at him for the moment. She was on the floor, head down, bottle-blond hair covering her face. Her body shook with sobs. He watched her for a couple of seconds, admiring the shape and form of the way her dress hugged her body. No wonder she got paid so much.  
  
Shaking his head briefly he grabbed her wrist, yanking her up. She cried out in pain as he handcuffed her to the metal pole protruding from the center of the room, going all the way up to the ceiling.  
  
"Now don't you go anywhere," he told her, "we need you."  
  
"What now, Chaz?" a voice spoke up, and he turned to look at Warren Warrington. Warren was sitting at the table across from the room, a phone sitting in front of him. Several men stood around him, waiting.  
  
Chaz looked at Kylie. "Make the call. She should be worth a lot."  
  
"How much?"  
  
"Ten grand."  
  
He could almost feel Warren gawking at him even though he was still watching Kylie. The woman was still crying, head down, not looking at them. He had given her a good slap to keep her from screaming, and that was all it took. She wasn't very smart.  
  
"Make. The. Call." He repeated, finally looking up.  
  
Warren didn't answer. He put the phone to his ear.  
  
The next thing caused them all to jump in surprise.  
  
The door leading to the small room was forced off his hinges, flying across the room and landing hard on the concrete floor. Everyone starting yelling as the dark figure entered the room.  
  
  
  
Batman hadn't wasted any time taking out the men. They all hesitated when they saw him, not sure exactly how to react, but Batman made the choice for them. He attacked, fists flying, legs kicking, grapnals whistling through the air.  
  
On the side of his vision he could see the woman, handcuffed to the rail in the middle of the room. She was hunched over, trying to cover herself from the fighting in front of her. He made a move toward her, fighting as he went.  
  
It took less than three minutes to floor most of the men. The rest were trying to get out of there and Batman let them. He didn't care about them. He cared about the woman. But someone was blocking him from getting to her.  
  
Clearly he was the leader of the gang. He stood in front of the woman, effectively blocking his way. Batman stared at him, not believing it. This man actually thought he had a chance?  
  
The man attacked and Batman didn't even have to think as he blocked him. Right hook, left jab, upper cut- he blocked them all almost effortlessly. He was just about to go in, to floor him right there and get him out of his way, when something wrong happened.  
  
Pain exploded in his chest and his eyes widened in surprise and agony, freezing in his movement. The man, thinking he had overtaken the bat, started pounding down on him. Batman's hand moved up to his chest and for a split second thought he had been shot.  
  
But he hadn't.  
  
The man continued to pound on him, and that was when Batman realized that his first priority was to get him to stop. But he couldn't. The pain weakened his knees and he dropped to the floor, pain spreading through his body. He could barely see clearly.  
  
His hands groped around and he grabbed the first thing he saw.  
  
A gun.  
  
One of the previous men had used it and there he was, lying unconscious on the ground. He had been holding the gun when Batman knocked him out and the weapon had been lying there since. It was the first thing he saw and he grabbed it.  
  
Head suddenly clear he moved his arm, pointing the gun at the man.  
  
The man froze, stepping back as he stared down the barrel. Batman's hand started to shake as he struggled to sit up, propping himself on his other elbow as he held the gun straight out at him. His finger played across the trigger and for a moment he thought about it.  
  
He actually thought about it.  
  
As long as it would help keep the woman safe.and himself.  
  
Batman watched his face as the man's expression turned to one of fear.  
  
He slowly started moving toward the door, not looking away from Batman and the gun he held. Batman followed him with the weapon, clenching his teeth from the pain his chest that was slowly subsiding.  
  
Then the man turned and bolted.  
  
Batman's entire body was shaking now, and he knew it wasn't because of his health. He stared at the gun in his hand.  
  
He couldn't believe it. Never before did he have to result to using a gun. It was the most hated weapon and he had told himself years ago that he would never use it. Never in his whole life. Because bad guys used guns. And he fought bad guys. He fought the bad guys that carried guns. It would be wrong if he ever used it. Or threatened to use it.  
  
He didn't know how long he lay there, staring at the gun. Slowly he let go and it fell back to the ground, clattering. He turned and looked at the woman. He recognized her now. She was the famous anchorwoman on that one news station he watched every now and then. She looked different in person.  
  
She was staring at him hands still tied. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, but by the look of her face she was horrified. Not because of the fact he had used a gun, no. It wasn't that. It was because of his reaction. She had watched him, waiting to see what he would do.  
  
He slowly got to his feet, staring at the gun on the ground, and moved over to her. Without speaking he picked through the handcuffs and helped her up.  
  
"T-thank you," she stammered, running from the building.  
  
He remained there, staring at the gun. Then he pulled off his mask.  
  
He was different than the way he once was. It wasn't the gray-white hair or the wrinkles or the wider he appeared all together from age. It was his expression. And he was completely horrified.  
  
When he left he didn't even bother going back out to patrol. He went straight home. For the last time.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter One Twenty years later.  
  
  
  
Derek Powers stood at the window overlooking Gotham city, hands folded behind his back. His face was expressionless.  
  
The sun was high in the sky, shining down through the large picture window and into his office. In the glass he could see a shadow of his reflection, white hair, aging face, clear eyes. He stood straight up, wearing an expensive business suit. He had to admit, he thought he was quite good looking for someone his age. He hadn't lost his spunk either. People were still scared of him, his authority.  
  
"Come in," he barked when there was a knock at his door.  
  
It opened. He didn't turn away from the window.  
  
"Mr. Powers sir?"  
  
Then he turned to see Stewart Hughes standing in his office. He had closed the door behind him and was holding an envelope in his hand. He was avoiding contact with him, looking nervously at the floor. Derek plastered a smile on his face as he turned to approach him.  
  
"Doctor Hughes, always a pleasure! How is our project progressing?"  
  
"So far, farther than we'd expected at this rate," Mr. Hughes said. His voice was softer and he stooped over when he stood. He was just as old as Derek Powers, but he looked older. "That is why I'm here Mr. Powers."  
  
"Please, sit down," Derek offered, indicating the chair set up before his desk. He himself sat down, straightening his suit. By the look of Stewart's face he knew it wouldn't be a good report. It made him dislike him even more. But still, courtesy was critical. "I'm sure whatever's wrong can be worked out."  
  
"It's this, Mr. Powers," Hugh said, handing him the manila envelope. Powers accepted it over the desk and started opening it casually. His curiosity had been perked. "We didn't think it would advance this quickly and frankly.I'm a little worried about its progress."  
  
"Oh?" Derek said, sliding the envelope's contents out onto the tabletop. They were photographs, facing down. He picked them up and turned them over. He blinked at the images.  
  
"I'm sure you know what I mean, sir," Stewart said, "I thought you should know right away. Perhaps we should, I don't know, postpone the project until medical assistance can deal with this sort of effect. Before it's too late."  
  
Derek shuffled through the photographs expressionless, taking his time. He could feel Stewart's nervousness grow and he sighed, putting the pictures back into the manila envelope. "I understand your concerns, Mr. Hughes, I really do. But if we stop now it'll risk our funds and the project itself. This is just a slight side effect. I'm sure it could be managed." He started to get to his feet, indicating the end of the meeting.  
  
Stewart looked at him in surprise, standing up also. "Sir, the photographs showed-"  
  
"What they show is a slight alteration to the doses and its effects," Derek interrupted, "I won't postpone or terminate the project unless something really critical happens. This project can be the end of bacterial infections, perhaps the end of sickness as we know it, cure all cancer."  
  
Stewart Hughes shuffled uncomfortably. "But sir, if these effects continue we might loose the test subject all together."  
  
"That's fine." Derek rounded the table to show Stewart out.  
  
"Fine?"  
  
"Yes Mr. Hughes. I'm willing to risk anything for this project, and one test subject won't matter. We'll just get another one."  
  
"But this is people we're referring to-"  
  
"Thank you Mr. Hughes." Derek held the door open. "And just between us, I would like you to keep the project away from the public, especially from any form of media. I wouldn't want anything bad to leak out. And for now I would like to hold on to these photos. Just to keep them safe."  
  
"Yes sir," Stewart nodded, stepping out into the hallway. "I have more if you ever need them." He left.  
  
Derek Power's smile faded away as he closed the door. "Do you now?"  
  
  
  
Terry McGinnis could feel the sweat pouring down his forehead as he stared intently at Nelson Nash, waiting for the next move. Long black bangs dropped in front of his line of vision, but he ignored them. Nelson was just as big as he was and if he were to let his guard down for even a minute, he would be a Terry-pancake.  
  
"Anxious, huh Terry?" Nelson said, grinning at him. He had short red hair, kept cleanly away from his eyes as he circled the wrestling ring, arms out, knees slightly bent. He was enjoying himself. Terry, on the other hand, wasn't.  
  
Yeah, sure I'm anxious, he thought, anxious to knock your face in.  
  
The two young men were seniors at Hamilton High School and part of the wrestling team. Both wore the brightly colored uniforms and protective gear, standing in the middle of the wrestling mat as their other teammates and coach watched on. It was always interesting watching Terry and Nelson wrestle. Because it was more than just wrestling. They really did want to kill each other.  
  
"Focus Terry," he heard Coach say. "Keep your eyes open. Nelson, shift your weight, he'll pin you if you don't fix that."  
  
"I think we should place a bet," Nelson said, his voice low so only Terry could hear and understand him. "I beat you, you have to do everything I say you'll do for the next week. You beat me."  
  
"You stop hitting on Dana," Terry answered simply, not really paying attention.  
  
Nelson's eyebrows rose. "That's it? Nothing else? I hit on everyone."  
  
"Not Dana. Not her."  
  
It wasn't a huge price to pay, but Terry had noticed the looks Nelson gave her every time they passed in the halls. Dana could never understand the look but Terry did. And he was going to make it stop.  
  
At that moment the door leading into the gym opened and laughter broke out. Girl laughter. Terry shifted his eyes at the distraction to see Dana and her two friends walk in. She had long black hair and dark slanted eyes. In Terry's opinion, she was the most beautiful girl in the world.  
  
Next to her were Chelsea Cunningham and Blade. Chelsea and Blade were the two bottle-blondes and they were the two laughing loudly. Dana looked in his direction and smiled.  
  
That's when Nelson attacked.  
  
He grunted as Nelson wrapped his arms around his neck, holding him forward. He was holding on him tighter than usual and Terry had to fight to breathe. Nelson started talking again.  
  
"You can't blame a guy though, can you?" he said conversationally, both looking in the girls' direction. "Schway girl like her, I don't know what she's doing here with you. You're nothing but a loser McGinnis."  
  
Terry wasn't really listening to him. He was trying to figure out how to get out of the hold and bury Nelson's face into the mat.  
  
"A loser McGinnis. Just like your father."  
  
That did it. Terry stopped thinking then and reacted. His dad was a hard worker, working under Derek Powers for Wayne Enterprises. He knew his dad didn't have the highest-ranking position and didn't bring in the most amount of money, but Nelson thought it was hilarious. His own father was one of the richest men in Gotham other than Wayne and Powers and Nelson always used it as a grudge against Terry whenever they were fighting. He knew what it did to Terry and he always brought it up deliberately, just for his reaction.  
  
The fist came out of nowhere. Nelson felt his nose explode with pain and he released his grip around Terry's neck, staggering backward. Yells echoed through the gym as Terry continued punching him. Coach jumped forward and grabbed him around the waist, jerking him back.  
  
"McGinnis, enough!" Coach shouted, "that's enough!"  
  
Terry pulled away from his grasp and stared angrily at Nelson. The other boy had his hand covering his nose and blood was everywhere. The rest of the wrestling team wasn't sure to start cheering or not. They stood there, watching.  
  
"Geez Terry, what's your problem?" Nelson demanded behind his cupped hands. It only added to Terry's anger. Nelson knew exactly what his problem was.  
  
"This has been the fifth fight you've started this semester!" Coach said angrily, "If you keep this up you'll find yourself off the team!"  
  
Terry detected a small smile behind Nelson's hands and he narrowed his eyes. "Fine." He said. "Fine!" He reached up, yanking the wrestling helmet off, throwing it to the floor. "I'm out of here."  
  
No one said anything as he turned and headed for the locker room. In the corner of his eye he saw Dana watching him, shocked at his behavior. He silently cursed himself for acting like that in front of her, but nothing could excuse Nelson's attitude. He deserved it.  
  
He pushed the locker room doors open and went for his locker, violently throwing it open. It banged against the locker next to it and started swinging back toward him, nearly hitting him in the head. He pushed it out of his way and started pulling off his uniform.  
  
"You know Terry, if you wanted to drop him you should have pick a more 'less-school' oriented place."  
  
"Knowing my luck, it'll end up back in school and I'll get suspended," Terry answered, looking up as Jared walked into the locker room. Jared wasn't part of the wrestling team, but he had come to watch them prepare for the big meet coming up. He was African American and one of Terry's friends since middle school.  
  
"Are you really going through with this? I mean quitting the team and all."  
  
"Coach doesn't want me around," Terry answered, grabbing the things out of his locker and stuffing them into his backpack. He took out a towel and slung it over his bare shoulder. "Least I can do is get out of his way. Simple as that."  
  
Jared watched him pack up for a few moments. "Look, since you're obviously leaving practice early, how 'bout we hit the town? Bring Dana, stop by a few clubs. Might help you unwind."  
  
"Can't," Terry answered, heading for the showers. "Mom wants me home to help watch Matt for a few hours while she goes out."  
  
"I thought your Dad was home."  
  
"He is, but he tends to shut himself up in his office. Either that or he leaves for work. No one really is there to watch Matt."  
  
Jared shrugged. "Well the invitation is still open for you if you still feel like coming. Just give me a call and we'll set up a meeting place."  
  
"Schway," Terry answered, disappearing into the showers. Jared nodded and turned, leaving the locker rooms. With his luck it would the last time he would ever shower after a team meet again. He didn't care.  
  
Well.maybe a little.  
  
  
  
Warren McGinnis had been working in the lab station when Stewart Hughes met up with him. Dressed in the white lab uniform and wearing protective gear he had been working on a vaccine for Colon Cancer.  
  
He was nearly a splitting image of his son. He had the same dark hair, same build, and same charming smile.whenever Terry bothered to be charming.  
  
He had been bent over the counter, too intent on his work to hear anyone approaching. Not until a folder plopped down in front of his project did he look up, startled.  
  
Stewart Hughes stood in front of him. He had put on the protective gear as well, but just as precaution before entering the lab. He was looking at Warren.  
  
"Geez Stewart, careful around here," Warren said, moving the equipment over, "you're a scientist too, or at least supposedly." He grinned, but it vanished as he noticed Stewart's grim expression. "What's wrong?"  
  
"This remains between you and me," he said, picking the folder up and holding it out. Warren took it curiously. "I tried running it through with Mr. Powers, but he refused to terminate the project. I got these extra photos to show you, plus a few last minute additions from when I checked up on it a few minutes ago."  
  
"And what project is that?" Warren inquired, flipping the folder open.  
  
What he saw caused him to nearly drop it.  
  
"We were searching for an antidote that would decease the growth of bacteria completely. We had to use a mixture of toxins in order to develop the basis for it. Top secret. I'm coming to you because I thought I could trust you."  
  
The photos were the most grotesque things Warren had ever seen. The first one was of a man, lying on a small platform. He was naked and he looked relatively normal. But as he continued to flip through the photos, he noticed differences.  
  
Parts of the man's body were dissolving completely from him.  
  
"Looks to me that the experiment went wrong," Warren said, looking around quickly to make sure no one else was there.  
  
"That's what I thought. And I showed them to Powers but."  
  
Warren could feel his insides fold as he continued to flip through them. Then he stopped at the last one. "Did he see this one?"  
  
"No. That's the latest. I'm sure if he did he would've terminated it."  
  
Warren wasn't so sure about that. He handed the photos back. "Are tests still being ran on other subjects?"  
  
"Not now, I postponed it for the day. I play to go back to Powers as soon as I can." He checked his watch. "If I can catch him before closing time I will. If not I'll give him a call and come back in tomorrow morning."  
  
"Good." Warren nodded. "It's almost time to close up and I need to get home to watch Matt. But I'll do what I can to help you with this case. Can you save these pictures onto a disk so I can take them home with me?"  
  
"Sure thing. I'll get to it now."  
  
"Great."  
  
Suddenly feeling better Stewart headed off back to his lab. Warren stood there, considering what he had just seen, before shaking his head in disgust and cleaning up the counter.  
  
Unseen by him was a large man standing on the balcony above, looking down into the laboratory. He had short spiky hair and he had a nasty scare down his right eye.  
  
Frowning at the doctor, he turned and left the building.  
  
  
  
The room was dark except for the late evening sunset shining through the window. There was almost no motion inside. A figure stood at the window, looking out onto his property, the Great Dane mix standing beside him loyally.  
  
Even though Bruce Wayne had to rely on a walking stick, he absolutely refused to let that effect his posture. He still stood as tall as his body would allow, with defiance in his expression as he stared out the window. One hand occasionally reached down to stroke the dog on its head.  
  
The clock chimed the hour and he turned away from the window. He no longer had a butler. It was just him and his dog. And he preferred it that way.  
  
"Come Ace," he said, his voice naturally grave as he crossed the room. The dog watched him for a moment, then followed, tail wagging. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two  
  
  
  
Every day was another challenge. That's what she always thought. And today it was the Jokerz.  
  
No matter how many they put away, more kept popping up. It was enough to drive the police force wild. This wasn't any ordinary gang. They were dangerous in more ways than one. And one way would be their namesake.  
  
Barbara Gordon rubbed the back of her neck, tiredly, catching her reflection in the window separating her office from the main police department. Her hair was short and white, glasses donning the older face. She never approved of the way she looked. Once long ago she was able to look in at her reflection and beam at the flaming red hair and trim body. She was still fit, but age changed everything.  
  
Wild yelling burst out through her door and she looked up to see two more Jokerz being dragged in through the front doors. They were two young men, dressed in loud plaid suits and white make-up smeared across their faces. Their hair was a wild rainbow of color red lipstick had been used to draw circles on their cheeks and around their mouths.  
  
She sighed, listening to their loud protests. It was the same thing every time. 'I was made to do it!' 'It wasn't me!' and her personal favorite; 'you guys can't take a joke, can you?'  
  
It just wasn't funny anymore.  
  
She just couldn't understand why a group of teens would ever idolize the Joker. He was long gone and still his influence was fresh throughout the city. It made her sick.  
  
Just as long as the Joker himself isn't around.  
  
"Commissioner," a voice spoke up, and one of the officers appeared in the doorway. "Time to do the usual interrogation."  
  
She sighed again, getting up from the desk. "Thank you, Jerry," she told him, "be right there."  
  
He nodded and left, leaving her to get ready. She tossed the papers she had been sorting through earlier aside.  
  
Today was another day.  
  
  
  
  
  
Terry didn't like going home most of the time. If he had the choice to choose where he'd rather stay, it would be out of the house or with his friends. Since he really didn't have much of a choice and no job at the moment, neither option was realistic.  
  
Taking the steps that led up to his family's apartment two at time he reached the top and headed down to his door. For a moment he wandered where his key was, then remembered and got it out. Sliding it through the lock the door beeped and he pushed it open.  
  
No one greeted him at first, but he didn't care. His mother was in the kitchen all dressed up and rummaging through the fridge.  
  
He set his backpack down on the counter, watching her.  
  
"I'll be leaving in a couple of minutes for the business meeting," she said to him, "and your father is in his office. He might be leaving in a couple of hours for work so I have some TV dinners for you to nuke."  
  
"Okay," he said tonelessly as she set out two dinners on the counter.  
  
"Two minutes, rotate, then another two. Don't let Matt eat when it's too hot and remember that he doesn't like peas. Even so don't let him dump it, it's good for him."  
  
"Sure," he said, "artificial peas. Can't get much healthier than that."  
  
"You never know," she said cheerily, rounding the counter to hug him. She grabbed her purse, slinging it over her shoulder. "I'll be back around ten. Trust you won't get into too much trouble."  
  
"Okay Mom."  
  
He turned and watched as she left through the front door. He heard it click as she locked it behind her, then turned to head for his room.  
  
In order to get to his room he had to pass his father's office down the hallway. Normally it was closed, but today it was ajar and he could see his Dad seated behind his mahogany desk, head bent over whatever he was doing. The computer was on beside him.  
  
He considered saying at least 'hey' to him, but Terry passed on that opportunity and continued on to his room.  
  
The apartment got smaller as he went deeper down the hall, getting quieter as he left the main rooms toward his own. Stepping into his bedroom he closed the door behind him and plopped down on the bed.  
  
His hair was still damp from the shower earlier. When he left the locker room Coach had been standing in the gym, watching the other teammates. He saw Terry crossing and stared, almost as if waiting for him to come and apologize.  
  
Oh no. No way. Terry was not about to apologize for anything.  
  
Nelson hadn't made it any better. He made a show of watching Terry leave, nudging the other players and saying something to make them snicker. It was all he could do not to run across the gym that moment and pelt Nelson across the face. But he couldn't do that. Dana was still there and he didn't want to give a bad impression of himself.  
  
"You're not staying?" she had asked, running up to him. Her long black locks bounced as she approached and she flashed one of her heartwarming smiles.  
  
"Wish I could," he had told her, "but I have to go home anyway, watch Matt."  
  
"Did Jared talk to you?"  
  
"Yup. If anything goes well I'll give you a call and set up a club where we can meet."  
  
"Great." She grinned and kissed him. "See you then."  
  
"Count on it."  
  
Now here he was, lying on his bed and wondering if he would ever be able to meet up with her later that night.  
  
Getting up she crossed over to his desk where he usually stashed all his schoolwork. Opening the bottom drawer he looked down at the pile of F and D papers and winced. Not only had he been kicked off the wrestling team, but also if he had stayed any longer he would've been forced out anyway from his grades.  
  
The phone rang then and he looked around the room. The cordless wasn't there and he sighed inwardly, opening the door and peeking out into the hallway. If someone weren't going to get that he'd have to walk all the way to the kitchen where-  
  
The ringing stopped and he heard the faint 'hello?' from his Dad's office. Shrugging he closed the door and turned back toward his desk. If he didn't get those make-up papers in soon, he'd flunk out completely.  
  
He was just about to get started when he got the funny feeling that he wasn't alone in the room. He stopped, straining his hears to listen. He thought he had heard shuffling.  
  
Maybe he was wrong.  
  
He started working again when he heard it again. Not heard. Felt. He could feel another presence.  
  
Slowly he got to his feet, arms out, muscles tense. He held his breath, listening. Through the thick silence he could hear his Dad's voice from down the hall, speaking through the phone. He thought he heard 'Terry' being said, but before he could hear anymore something attacked him.  
  
He yelled out in surprise, pitching forward as a small voice cried out, grabbing him around the waist. Terry prepared to swing him off, but stopped abruptly. Giggling had broken the silence.  
  
He looked down to see Matt's smaller arms wrapped around his waist, attempting to pull him off balance. Terry smiled in spite of himself and pulled him off. "What are you trying to do, make me fail?"  
  
"No," his younger brother said, stepping out from behind him, "more or less trying to kill you." His eyes moved down to the papers strewn over the floor. "Wow Terry. You're stupid."  
  
"Thanks. Now get lost, I have work to do."  
  
Matt frowned, crossing his arms. He looked just like Terry, only half his size. He was ten years old and had the same bushy hair his older brother had. They always used to wrestle, but lately Terry had been too preoccupied to engage in the game. "You're supposed to be watching me."  
  
"Aren't you a little too old to have a baby-sitter?"  
  
"Yeah. But you're my brother."  
  
"Unfortunately." Terry gathered the papers and put them back on the desk. He crossed the room to open the door. "Now get lost. Watch TV or something- "  
  
"Terry?"  
  
His father's voice had called his name from the office. Terry hesitated. "Yeah?" he called back.  
  
"Can you come here please?"  
  
He sighed. Behind him Matt was grinning.  
  
"Oooooh, you're in trouble!"  
  
Terry ignored him and walked down the hallway toward his father's office. Pushing the door open he saw Warren McGinnis waiting for him. He had taken his glasses off and was rubbing the back of his neck.  
  
Uh oh.  
  
"Yeah?" he asked.  
  
"I just got off the phone with your Coach," Warren said. "Care to tell me what happened?"  
  
Terry shrugged from the doorway. "Got in a fight."  
  
"That's what Coach said too. Only it wasn't just a fight. It was the result of several fights throughout the semester. What's going on?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
Warren nodded, sitting up. "Nothing. Sure. Then Coach told me that even if you hadn't been kicked out now, you probably would have later because of your grades. According to him you're failing nearly all of them."  
  
Terry started. "Not wrestling. I wasn't failing that-"  
  
"I don't care about wrestling." Warren voice was sterner now. "We need to talk Terry. You've been getting a little out of hand lately with your temper and your grades or falling."  
  
Terry clenched his teeth together. He didn't need this right now. He had had enough with talking. "There's nothing to talk about."  
  
"Oh really? Seems to me that if you don't bring up your grades you're going to flunk right out of High School."  
  
Terry sighed exasperatedly. "Why do you expect me to do all these things, Dad? I'm not this school whiz like you!"  
  
"You watch what you say!" Warren said, getting to his feet. Terry stood his ground.  
  
"Why can't you just leave me alone about this? It's my life, I'll do what I want with it!"  
  
"No you won't!" His father yelled back, "you're not eighteen yet, and if I let you do what you want to do you'll end up with a dead end job!"  
  
"Stop telling me what to do."  
  
"You're capable of so many things Terry, you just have to set your mind to it! Lately you've been letting this temper get ahead of you and if you don't stop-"  
  
"I won't become some scientist like you?" Terry punched angrily at the doorframe.  
  
"Stop it!" Warren yelled, "you're starting to get impossible, you know that?"  
  
"Yeah, impossible," Terry said sarcastically. "Forget this, I'm out of here."  
  
"Don't you walk out on me while we're talking Terry."  
  
"Too late. I'm gone."  
  
He left the room, leaving his father standing there. He listened as his son stormed angrily around the house, grabbing his jacket from the coat closet, before leaving the apartment, slamming the door shut.  
  
He closed his eyes briefly, sinking back into his chair. All the weight he had forgone that day came back to him as he put his hands to his forehead.  
  
He sat there for a few minutes like that, thinking. A small voice interrupted it, causing him to look up.  
  
Matt was standing in the doorway timidly. He looked a little taken aback by the fight as he said quietly, "Jason called and wanted to know if I could go over to his house."  
  
Warren sighed, looking at him. "Are his parents coming to pick you up?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Okay then. Don't be gone too late."  
  
"I won't."  
  
Warren watched him leave, silently hoping Mat would never grow up to behave like his older brother. It was too much.  
  
Rubbing his eyes he put his glasses back on and tried to pay attention to the computer screen in front of him.  
  
  
  
  
  
Stewart ran wildly through the dark alleys, his chest heaving and his legs aching with pain. He couldn't stop running. He glanced back, eyes wide with fright as he continued around the corner, nearly slipping on the soiled ground as he took the turn.  
  
Behind him he could hear footsteps, heavy footsteps following. They were getting closer and closer, no matter how fast Stewart was running. He couldn't seem to run fast enough.  
  
Sweat poured down the sides of his face as he took another turn, this time loosing his footing and sliding on the ground. He cried out in pain as he hit the ground hard, wrenching his right shoulder. He climbed back to his feet and continued on, gasping for air.  
  
He had no idea where he was now. Everything looked foreign to him. He could hear noise in the far distance and got the idea he was near the downtown area. Other than that he was lost.  
  
The alleyways were getting darker and he had a hard time telling where he was stepping. He could hear scurrying as the rats darted away from him, exited at his presence.  
  
Then he came to a dead end.  
  
He couldn't believe it. It couldn't be possible.  
  
"No," he murmured, looking around wildly. "No, no, no!" He checked the doors leading into different rooms, but they were all locked. He could feel the fear lifting to its new high, consuming him. He could barely breath anymore. His whole body shook as he turned around.  
  
Another figure stepped away from the shadows, almost as if it had been waiting for him to get there. He was a big man with short spiky hair and a scar running down his face. It was the same man who had been watching him and Warren earlier that day.  
  
"No, no, please, I beg you!" Stewart pleaded, raising his hands in surrender. "I didn't do anything, I don't know anything, please don't-"  
  
"Don't what?" The man asked, raising a gun. "Kill you?"  
  
He fired and Stewart let out a strangled, wet cry, spinning around and hitting the ground. The man stepped forward, raising the gun skyward.  
  
"That's an excellent idea."  
  
He checked the man over. Stewart was lying on his stomach, arms and legs spread out, eyes wide. He was dead.  
  
Straightening up the scarred man took a cell phone out from his pocket and raised it to his ear. It rang a couple of times before someone answered. A man.  
  
"Powers."  
  
The man stared down at Stewart, tucking the gun away. "I got him."  
  
There was a long pause. The man bent down, searching the scientist for identification. Finally the man on the other line answered.  
  
"Excellent Mr. Fixx. Who else knows?"  
  
Mr. Fixx straightened up, Stewart's wallet and keys in his hands. "Just one other." He tucked them in his pocket.  
  
"Good. Get rid of him."  
  
"Gladly, Mr. Powers."  
  
Mr. Fixx ended the connection and put the cell phone away, looking at the body. Then he turned around and left the alley, leaving the body behind. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three  
  
"Hey Terry!"  
  
"Terry, you made it!"  
  
Terry grinned as he approached the line leading into Salita, one of the biggest clubs in Gotham. He could see Dana, Blade, Chelsea, and Max standing there, Jared and Nelson bringing up the back. Nelson didn't look particularly happy as Terry arrived.  
  
"Of course," Terry said, wrapping his arms around Dana, "wouldn't give it up for anything." He looked at Max. "Hey Max, didn't think I'd see you around here."  
  
Max shrugged. "Nothing else to do. Besides, Jared insisted." She looked up at Jared and he grinned. She was African American as well with short flaming pink hair. She was the smartest kid at Hamilton High and normally wouldn't be found around clubs with Dana and Terry. But tonight could be counted as an exception.  
  
"Where's your permission slip, McGinnis?" Nelson asked, making a show of putting his arm around Blade.  
  
"Don't need one anymore," Terry answered cynically, "where's yours?"  
  
"The line's taking awhile," Dana said, noticing the tension. "But I'm sure it wouldn't be too long before we get in." She was grinning with anticipation.  
  
"Can't wait either," Terry said, smiling down at her. He really liked her. She was one of the sweetest girls he knew and he was glad they were dating.  
  
Nelson made a face behind him and tried to get closer to Blade, but she shoved him away. He looked at her in surprise, then shrugged and tried to put a move on Chelsea.  
  
"So Terry," Jared said, "what are you going to do about the wrestling team?"  
  
"Yeah," Max put in, "I heard it wasn't so good today."  
  
"You're telling me," Terry said, "I think Coach expected me to apologize."  
  
"Are you?" Dana asked.  
  
He was about to say no, but he noticed the look in her eyes and changed the answer. "I might."  
  
She smiled. "That's good."  
  
A loud explosion rocked the ground suddenly, and everyone cried out as motorcycles roared through the street. Every looked to see a whole gang of teens arriving wearing loud outfits and make-up covering their faces. They were laughing maniacally, throwing things and running their bikes through the lines. People screamed and tried to get out of their way.  
  
"Jokerz," Max yelled over the noise, "why'd they have to come now?"  
  
Dana tugged on Terry's jacket. "We'd better get out of here."  
  
They were just about to do so when one of the Jokerz spun his bike, coming to a stop right in front of them. He wore a purple suit with white make-up plastered across his face, his hair dyed green.  
  
"Hey!" he yelled conversationally at them, "where's the party?"  
  
More Jokerz continued to ransack the place, people running and screaming to get away. It was starting to get ugly.  
  
Terry and Dana tried to get away, but the green-haired Joker was effectively blocking his way. And he was giving Dana the same look Terry despised whenever he saw it on Nelson's face.  
  
"Hey baby," the Joker said, "come for a ride?" Another Joker rode his bike around them, laughing at the top of his lungs.  
  
"Get away from here!" Terry yelled, stepping in front of her.  
  
"Oooh!" The Joker said mockingly. "Like to see you try!"  
  
Just then Dana screamed and Terry turned to see that the second Joker and gotten her purse. She had tried to hold on to it, but the force of the motorcycle had made her fall over, skinning her legs on the asphalt.  
  
Angry, Terry attacked the closest Joker, pulling him off the motorcycle. The Jokerz were starting to clear the area and at first Terry couldn't understand why. Then he noticed the flashing lights of police cars and figured it out.  
  
But they still had Dana's purse. And he had had enough of being pushed around that night.  
  
He took off after them on the motorcycle, ignoring Dana's protests behind him. He knew how to use a motorcycle and he used it effectively, picking up speed as he tore down the street after them.  
  
Ahead he could hear the Jokerz whooping and laughing, shouting rude comments at each other. One of them noticed him following and hollered it out to the rest. They looked back and Terry could feel all their eyes bearing down on him.  
  
Trying to find a way to lose him, they took an unexpected turn. Terry continued after them, not willing to give up yet. It wasn't just the purse that was driving him. It was the urge to really beat someone up.  
  
He rode for what seemed like fifteen minutes, dodging through oncoming cars to keep up with the gang. After awhile the traffic started to die down and the ground ascended, going up a small incline. He didn't know where they were going and he was starting to lose them. He didn't know where they were.  
  
Suddenly the front tire of the motorcycle hit something he was flying, hitting the ground in front of him painfully and skidding his hands and knees. He rolled over onto his back, hitting his head painfully on the ground.  
  
The motorcycle had flopped to the side, still running. But that wasn't what he was worried about.  
  
Jokerz were stepping out from the shadows, looking down at him with wide grins. He blinked, getting to his feet. He couldn't tell if they were really grinning, or if it was the make-up. The purple suited Joker stepped forward, holding a mean looking club in his hand. Spikes stuck out and unruly angles.  
  
"Look what we have here!" he said loudly. The rest of the gang snickered. Suddenly realizing the danger they had put him in Terry tried to back up. It was no use, they had completely surrounded him.  
  
Oh slag it.  
  
He noticed the Joker who had stolen Dana's purse. He held it now, draped over his shoulder like it was his own. Terry was going to get it back no matter what. And he was going to bash some heads in the process.  
  
"Someone was following us," the purple suited Joker said, starting to circle Terry, patting the club into his hand. "How.funny because we're here, waiting for you."  
  
Without warning he swung the club. Terry blocked it with his arms and tried to grab it from him. The spikes dug into his skin and he gritted his teeth, trying not to cry out. He fought back, sending the Joker staggering back, still holding the club in his hands. The rest of the Jokerz were getting angry.  
  
Then Terry was attacked from behind. He didn't know by how many, but he was on the ground, trying to fight him off. The air filled with yelling as he fought them off, only to get attacked by more. Something hit his leg painfully and he stumbled, trying to regain balance.  
  
Well. This was stupid.  
  
He wasn't sure how long he would be able to hold himself when a blow came out of nowhere. He blinked at first, expecting pain, but he got none. Instead, the Jokerz around him fell off and he looked up to see a cane flying, hitting the Jokerz painfully away from him.  
  
"Get him! Get the old man!"  
  
Terry couldn't understand what was going on, and he looked around. From his angle he could see another person there in front of him, defending him from the Jokerz and his first impulse was to yell at him, tell him to get out of there.  
  
Then he realized it was an old man. Old enough to be his grandfather if not older.  
  
"Leave the boy alone!" the old man was saying, "and get off my property!"  
  
Oh man, this guy's going to get himself killed!  
  
Terry got to his feet and got to his side, trying to fight the Jokerz back. Instead the old man stepped in front of him, using his cane to effectively attack them. Terry noticed the strength behind the blows and instead of trying to defend him, fought beside him. Barking filled the air and he turned, realizing the black Great Dane standing to the side, barking furiously and attacking whatever Joker came near it.  
  
It slowly dawned on the Jokerz that it wasn't a fight worth fighting, and they started to retreat. The purple suited leader looked at the old man in surprise, then grabbed the motorcycle Terry had fallen off.  
  
"Go back!" he shouted at the others, glaring at Terry. "We'll deal with him later!"  
  
They both stood there as the Jokerz ran off through the trees and away down the street. Terry couldn't help grinning. Then he remembered Dana's purse and glanced around. He saw it lying on the ground several feet and stooped to pick it up.  
  
"Thanks," he said sheepishly, turning around to face the old man. "Wow, I didn't know someone like you could."  
  
He trailed off, noticing that the old man was suddenly leaning heavily against the wall, breathing hard. The cane had fallen to the ground. The dog stood beside him, sniffing at his hand.  
  
"Whoa, are you okay?" Terry reached forward to help him up, picking up the cane. The man was starting to wheeze. The dark noticed Terry approaching and started growling. It was a deep, throaty growl, and Terry stepped back.  
  
"Ace," the old man said, and the dog stopped growling, stepping aside. Glancing warily at the dog Terry approached, careful not to get too close to him.  
  
"Take me up to the house," he said weakly, taking the cane from Terry.  
  
That's when Terry realized where he was. They were standing at the front gate and far ahead he could see the mansion in the distance, covered by the trees planted around the property. Then he saw the engraving on the side of the wall.  
  
Wayne Manor.  
  
Bruce Wayne? The Bruce Wayne? He had to own practically half of Gotham City! Terry was surprised to see him. No one saw Bruce Wayne in public, except maybe when you worked for him. This was something.  
  
"Okay," Terry said. The man put one hand on his shoulder and they headed through the gate. The dog followed behind, still growling softly in its throat. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four  
  
Wow. I'm in the Bruce Wayne Mansion.  
  
Terry couldn't stop looking around once they entered the mansion. Bruce Wayne had him accompany him to the family room where he sat down heavily in one of the armchairs, dropping the cane to the floor and leaning against the arm.  
  
"Do you need anything?" Terry asked, kneeling down beside him. He was truly getting worried about this man.  
  
"Pills," Bruce said hoarsely, "table."  
  
Terry saw the pills and brought them to him. There already was a glass of water beside the chair and Bruce Wayne took the pills, drinking deeply from the glass.  
  
"Are you okay?" Terry asked.  
  
The old man didn't answer right away. Ace, the Great Dane, sat down beside the chair and he rested his hand on his head lightly.  
  
Terry shrugged and turned around, looking around the room. He couldn't believe how big everything was. The ceiling was high and there were pictures all over the walls. Most of them were classic paintings done by Monet and Picasso.  
  
He whistled softly, taking it all in. Then he turned around. "Do you need me anymore Mr. Wayne-"  
  
He stopped. Bruce Wayne had fallen asleep in the chair, head leaning against the side, snoring softly.  
  
Oh. Okay then.  
  
Deciding to leave him, Terry headed for the front door, figuring the man would be okay by himself.  
  
Halfway there, he stopped.  
  
Why not have a little look around?  
  
Rarely anyone got to see inside the Wayne Manor. He had heard the rumors from school Bruce Wayne was a lonely old man living all by himself and didn't like company at all. If you wanted to meet with him, you'd meet with him in the city.  
  
Then there were the horror stories. How Wayne Manor was actually haunted and that whoever went in there never came out again. Stories that the old man living there actually ate people. Stories that there were bodies hidden in its basement.  
  
But now that Terry was here, all those scary stories left his mind for good. If Bruce Wayne really was the evil man everyone thought him to be in school, then he would have left the Jokerz to kill him.  
  
Setting that aside, he started wondering through the halls, peering into the rooms and turning on and off lights as he went. Everything looked mostly cared for. Except for the dust. There was dust everywhere. Bruce Wayne apparently was the only man living here. No one stayed with him. Obviously he wouldn't be able to get around and dust everything all day.  
  
Terry came to the family room then, and that's where he noticed the pictures. There were pictures on the wall of people, real people and not paintings. He turned on the lights and picked up a frame, looking at the picture of a good looking man with black hair. He was smiling slightly, but Terry could see a peculiar sadness in his eyes.  
  
The next frame had four people in it. The same man from the first picture was there, dressed in a business suit and staring rather forlornly at the camera. Then there was a younger man beside him, looking to be in the early twenties. He had longer hair, tied back in a ponytail, and he was grinning. He had a certain charm about him that completely opposed to the first guy. There was a pretty young woman standing in the front and she had flaming red hair. She was smiling energetically at the camera. And beside her was a teenage boy maybe a bit younger then Terry. He was actually waving at the camera, laughing.  
  
They were all laughing and smiling. Except for the older man in the back.  
  
Terry set that frame down, peering at the other pictures. They were all varieties of the previous photo, and some portraits of the young woman. There were more of her than any of the others, he noticed.  
  
He straightened up and was about to leave, when he noticed the grandfather clock in the corner.  
  
So far during his trip throughout the mansion all the clocks he had encountered were right on the time. But this one was several hours behind.  
  
Feeling he might as well do some service to the old man, he got up and checked his watch. Opening the clock covering he moved the hands until they were ten minutes past ten o'clock.  
  
Then something happened.  
  
There was a clicking noise, causing him to jump back. Then to his surprise, the clock moved, sliding across the floor to reveal an opening behind it.  
  
Terry stared, not sure whether to leave it like that or go through. He glanced around warily.  
  
Well.just another room on my tour through the castle. Shouldn't be bad.  
  
The hallway beyond was dark and cold, and he could feel a soft wind blowing through. He frowned. Was he going outside?  
  
Then the hallway opened up and he found himself in a huge, dark room. He couldn't see at first and moved his hand along the wall. Finding the lightswitch he flicked it on.  
  
He wasn't in a room. He was in a cave.  
  
He stood there, staring around. It was a cave, with stalactites and stalagmites, cliffs, ridges, and everything.  
  
But that wasn't all.  
  
There was a giant computer on the other side of the cave, larger than his apartment it seemed. He went down the steps leading into the cave and he walked along the surface, looking around.  
  
Weird cases had been set up, and inside he could see different displays of devices. Several of them were outfits that looked older than him. One of them was a green body suit, covered in black question marks. Another one was a black business suit. But there was something different about it. Half of it had been cut off and replaced with a different fabric, lined with gruesome patterns and colors. It looked like two suits had been put together and sewn down the middle.  
  
Then there were the cases against the wall by the stairs.  
  
There were five cases all together, and each had a costume set up inside. And he recognized them.  
  
He couldn't believe it. This stuff was legend, not actually true.was it?  
  
The first case held the original Batsuit. The ones that followed held Nightwing's, Batgirl's, and Robin's. All looked torn up and patched, no longer in the right condition to wear.  
  
But it was fifth case was different. It was a modern design of the Batsuit. It didn't have a cape and it wasn't torn. It seemed to be made of a different material.  
  
What is this place, a museum?  
  
Then it slowly dawned on him. He stood there, unable to move as he stared at the costume. Was this really.?  
  
"How did you get in here?"  
  
The voice was surprisingly gruff and Terry jumped in surprise. He turned to see Bruce Wayne standing at the entrance at the top of the stairs, Ace standing beside him. The dog was growling again, and Bruce made no move to stop him.  
  
Terry stepped back, glancing around. "I-"  
  
"Get out. Get out now!"  
  
The voice scared him. Terry made a move for the stairs, the only exit, and Bruce moved aside to let him go. Terry could feel his face grow hot as he passed him, trying to avoid the dog. Ace continued to grow, but didn't attack.  
  
"Sorry," Terry stammered, brushing past him and back into the mansion. He made a run for the front door.  
  
"And don't ever come back!" Bruce yelled after him.  
  
  
  
  
  
Terry had no clue how he was going to get home, so he walked. It was the only way.  
  
Images of the cave came back to him as he walked, haunting him. He could still plainly see the costumes in its cases. But it couldn't be real.could it?  
  
All his life he knew about the Batman. It was Gotham legend, everyone knew about him. But by now people have said it was just that- a legend. It never happened. And no one had any proof to show his existence.or wanted to.  
  
He was deep in thought, going over everything he had seen. What would Bruce Wayne do now? Would he contact him? Kill him?  
  
Well. At least I know now there's no bodies hidden in its basement.  
  
Actually that wasn't true. There were bodies. Bodies of a lost legend. And that was it.  
  
How would Bruce Wayne contact him? He never found out his name. All he knew was that he was some punk kid picking fight with Jokerz on his front lawn. What if he didn't want the secret out and would do anything to keep it in?  
  
Am I in danger?  
  
Was that really what I saw?  
  
Am I delirious? Yeah.must be. I think I am.  
  
He hadn't realized he was home until the flashing lights caused him to look up. He was standing in front of his apartment building, but there were police cars all over the place, policemen swarming all over the place. People stood on the sidewalks and outside their doors, watching fearfully.  
  
"Terry!"  
  
He looked up to see his mom running his way, arms outstretched. There were tears streaming form her eyes and everything that had happened earlier with Bruce Wayne left his mind as he looked around. Graffiti covered the walls, including the crude 'HA HA' sprayed across the front.  
  
"Mom!" he called out, running to her. "What happened? Where's Dad, Matt?"  
  
"Matt's here, Terry," she told him, looking back. Matt was standing by the police cars, crying. "I called him from his friend's house and he just got here."  
  
"But Dad- where's Dad?"  
  
It was slowly dawning on him that his father wasn't around.  
  
"Terry, oh Terry, Jokerz attacked the place and your father, he was inside when it happened and-"  
  
She started crying again and he stared at her in disbelief. "Mom," he said, his voice shaking. "Where is he? Where is he, Mom?"  
  
"When you weren't here I-I thought you had been taken too, that the Jokerz got you too but you weren't anywhere and the police couldn't find you-"  
  
His eyes widened and he pulled away from her, running for the front door. "Dad!" He screamed, feeling panic rise within his chest. Police swarmed around him, keeping him from entering.  
  
"There's nothing you can do, kid," a woman's voice said loudly, pushing him back. He looked to see an older, white haired woman standing in front of him.  
  
"No, my father," he objected, trying to push past her. She was surprisingly strong. "Dad! Dad!" They tried to push him back, but he fought past them. "No! Dad! No!"  
  
He finally got past them and ran through the hallway toward the office. More 'HAHA''s had been sprayed along the wall and he could feel his whole world around him collide and fall apart, sending him down a current of emotion.  
  
It was their joke. And no one was laughing.  
  
  
  
Not again. Not ever again.  
  
He had been careless. He had let a careless, young teen into his house and let him walk around without supervision. How could he have been so stupid? Why did he let this happen?  
  
It was because of himself, and Bruce Wayne knew it. Because of his weakness he had fallen sleep and left the boy to wander the house alone. Because of him this had happened.  
  
He shook his head. Well now it wasn't going to happen again. And he was going to make sure of that.  
  
Never again. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five  
  
Terry didn't go back to school for a week. His presence had been missed and even caused Max to call up and ask how he was doing. The answer was the same every time.  
  
II don't know./I  
  
Dana had grown to miss him at school and called by the apartment several times. Sometimes he was willing to sit and talk with her, and other times his mother had to go and tell her that he was asleep.  
  
It had been hard for Matt as well. Every night through the walls Terry could hear him sobbing in his room. Several times he had gotten up himself and gone over to console him and the two of them would stay up until three o'clock talking. Sometimes they talked about their dad, most of the time they chatted about baseball and girls. Matt didn't like them very much yet, but he was starting to get interested.  
  
Warren McGinnis' office, the scene of the crime, had been locked and no one wanted to go inside. Their mother had gone inside several times by herself, mostly to collect his things that they'd need, but other than that the boys didn't want to go in there. Terry only went in to get his computer, and it was now sitting on a crate by his bed.  
  
Because of recent events, the Batcave had been pushed entirely out of Terry's mind. Until he got the phone call.  
  
He had no idea how the old man had gotten his phone number or found out who he was, but in the middle of the night his cell phone on his bedside table awakened Terry.  
  
He groggily got up, reaching for the phone. Normally he wouldn't have answered it, knowing it to be one of his friends from school, but it was too late and he wasn't thinking straight. He put it to his ear.  
  
"'lo?" He closed his eyes, resting his head against the pillow. He could feel himself drifting again, but the voice that answered back caused him to open his eyes.  
  
"The secret stays where it belongs."  
  
Terry hadn't spoken for a moment, struggling to sit up. He kicked the sheets off him. "Who is this?" he asked, alarmed.  
  
"If I hear what you found out from anyone else, I will personally fix it myself."  
  
The connection broke, and it took Terry a couple of seconds to figure out who it was from. He had entirely forgotten about that little incident.  
  
During the days Terry stayed in his room. He only accepted the occasional phone call from Jared, telling him what he was missing in school, but that was it. He couldn't get the one thing out of his head.  
  
IIt was my fault/I.  
  
It had to have been. The Jokerz were after him. Somehow they found out who he was and in order to hit him where it hurts, they went for his dad.  
  
But could that really be it?  
  
Jokerz didn't attack apartment buildings for nothing. And no one else had been killed. Warren McGinnis' death had been a deliberate one. Even the police had been baffled by this behavior.  
  
It wasn't only that.  
  
The fight they had had before kept replaying itself in his head. The way he had yelled at his father when his father was only trying to help. It made him hate himself with passion and he wished he could make it all go away.  
  
But it wasn't that easy. And he knew it.  
  
His mother had tried several times to explain to Matt what had happened, but sometimes it proved to difficult for her and she had to stop. Terry, feeling sorry, did it in her place. And Matt hadn't stopped crying since.  
  
Flowers were sent in nonstop since the accident. Flowers from neighbors, from family members, from friends. And there was one bouquet that came in unsigned. But it had the Wayne Enterprises card attached.  
  
"I can't decide whether it's from the company itself, or from an employer who forgot to sign it," his mother had said.  
  
Terry didn't say anything. He had the strong suspense that it had come directly from the source. He felt a little angry when he saw it and tried to figure out what the old man was trying to do.  
  
Then decided to let the intention speak for itself.  
  
It was a nice gesture.  
  
  
  
  
  
Derek Powers was feeling better about himself. He was able to go about his business with renewed confidence. And he didn't have to worry about nosy scientists finding about questionable projects.  
  
Mr. Fixx sat in front of his desk, a cigar dangling from his mouth. Derek's gaze rested on the hideous scar down his face briefly, then got down to business.  
  
"I want to thank you, Mr. Fixx, for your aid," he said, "and as promised, your payment."  
  
He handed him a check. Mr. Fixx looked at the total and, seemingly satisfied, tucked it away with a gloved hand.  
  
"And as a part of our contract, I will still need your assistance throughout the project. I'm sure you understand. And I assure you, you will paid according to the sum at the end."  
  
"I understand," Mr. Fixx nodded. He reached into his pocket and drew out a wallet. He tossed it carelessly on the desk and Derek Powers looked down at it, moving his hands away.  
  
"This is?" he asked.  
  
"Hughe's. Didn't know if you wanted to hold on to it not."  
  
Derek's gazed moved back up to Mr. Fixx. "No, I prefer if you held on to it. If anyone were to find it here, it would raise questions."  
  
Mr. Fixx shrugged and took it back.  
  
"And what about Mr. McGinnis'?"  
  
"I left that up to the Jokerz. If they ransacked the place, why would we have his stuff?"  
  
Derek smiled. "Good. And the Jokerz? What do they want in return?"  
  
"I already handled that."  
  
"Good. Then it's business as usual. Try to keep any faces from pointing toward us and we should be fine. The project is still in progress. Thursday I will be checking on it at night and I hope you will be there as well as security."  
  
"No problem Mr. Powers."  
  
Just then the door to the office opened and they both turned to see a young man standing in the doorway. He resembled Derek Powers and the only difference was his youthful face and black hair. He wore a business suit, making him look especially suave and clean-cut. His gaze rested on Mr. Fixx briefly before turning to Derek Powers.  
  
"Excuse me for interrupting," he said, his voice light and charming, "but Dad? Our lunch, remember?"  
  
"Ah yes, of course I remember, Paxton," Derek said, getting to his feet. Mr. Fixx did the same and Derek nodded at him. "Mr. Fixx, this is my son, Paxton Powers. Paxton, this is Mr. Fixx, one of my employers."  
  
"Hello," Paxton greeted him warmly, waving and nodding his head. Then he turned back to his father. "Should I wait until this meeting's over?"  
  
"No need," Derek stopped him, buttoning his suit jacket closed and rounding the desk. "We're finished. Mr. Fixx, thank you for your time."  
  
Mr. Fixx merely nodded and left the office. Behind him Derek and Paxton followed, Paxton oblivious to the conversation that had just went on before he'd arrived.  
  
  
  
  
  
On the day of the funeral Matt found Terry busy at their father's laptop in his room. He stopped in the doorway, watching him. They were both wearing black suits. Matt's mother had to buy his the other day and normally he would've objected to wearing such an outfit. But because of the circumstance, he didn't utter a protest while his mother helped him put it on.  
  
"What are you doing?" he asked finally.  
  
Terry started, looking back at him. "Oh, just looking through a few of Dad's files."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Just curious to see what he was doing."  
  
Matt approached, leaning against Terry's back and looking at the screen over his shoulder. "Mom says we're leaving in five minutes."  
  
"Okay. Be out in a minute."  
  
Matt turned to leave, but hesitated and looked back at him. He blinked hard.  
  
"Terry..I miss him."  
  
Terry looked back at him. "Of course you do. I do too. We both do."  
  
Matt nodded, his eyes shiny with tears as he turned away and disappeared down the hall. Terry watched him go for a moment before turning back to the computer.  
  
The thought had dawned on him that morning. It suddenly occurred to him that it was too strange that the Jokerz would do such precise damage. It wasn't their way. They corrupted and destroyed, they didn't go after one person. Especially someone that held no significance to them. And after running the whole scenario through his head for several days straight, Terry knew there was no way they could've known who he was or where he lived. It was too dark to even tell who he was, let alone figure out where he lived.  
  
And there was no way they could've done that in such a short time.  
  
So now here he was, going through his Dad's files, hoping to find some sort of link to help him figure out what could've caused his death. At first he thought it had to have been a long shot, but then he found something.  
  
He opened several photo files, and what popped up nearly caused him to gag in surprise and disgust.  
  
What he saw was a man, practically dissolved away, missing most of his limbs.  
  
And what was worst was that by the man's expression, Terry could tell he was still alive. And screaming with pain.  
  
Terry wanted to shut down the program the minute he had opened it up. If this was one of Dad's experiments, how they could let something like this happened? It had to have been illegal.  
  
Then it dawned on him.  
  
The file was from Wayne/Power's agricultural department. Warren worked there. And if he knew of such a grotesque experiment maybe.  
  
Well maybe not. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions. But he was sure there had to be a connection.  
  
"TERRY!"  
  
His mother's voice rang through the house and he quickly shut down the program, closing the computer. "Coming!" he called back, looking around wildly for his shoes. But while he did that, a plan was forming through his mind.  
  
He couldn't go to the police with this presumption. They wouldn't believe him and there wasn't enough evidence to do anything about it. But maybe he could do something about it himself.  
  
But how? He wasn't Superman.  
  
But wait.  
  
There was Batman.  
  
But Bruce Wayne, if he was Batman then there was no way Batman could do anything about it. Mr. Wayne looked ready to keel over after one fight.  
  
He left the room, trying to put his shoes on at the same time. He still ran the idea through his mind.  
  
It wasn't a bad one. 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six  
  
  
  
After the funeral Terry returned home, feeling more sober than he thought he could ever feel. He shut himself up in his room and under the guise of getting over the morning's service, went back onto the computer.  
  
He spent a long time studying the photographs and from what he'd gathered came to a reasonable conclusion. There was an experiment going on in the Agricultural department, and something went wrong and they didn't want the word to get out. So they tried to quiet it down by.  
  
But killing? Why would they resort to killing? It didn't seem right.  
  
In the middle of his assumptions the phone rang. He answered it, still going through the files.  
  
"Terry?"  
  
He recognized the voice. "Dana," he said, "hi."  
  
"Are you okay? I wasn't sure if I should call, if you needed time or something."  
  
"No, I'm okay," he assured her. "Just a little tired."  
  
"Oh okay." She sounded relieved. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"I don't know yet. Still a little numb. And I've been going over a lot of things."  
  
"Do you want me to come over or something? I can cook you something and maybe we can watch a movie or something. If you feel up to it."  
  
He forced a small laugh. "Cook? Dana no offense but-"  
  
She laughed. "No, it's okay, I know I can't cook. But I can heat up TV trays, can't I? Thanks to plastic I can do just about anything."  
  
He smiled. "Sounds tempting, but I don't know." He eyed the photographs on the computer and was about to say something when he heard a knock on the door.  
  
He quickly minimized the files on the computer. "Hold on a sec, Dana," he said, turning toward the door. "Come in!"  
  
The door opened and his mother walked in. He smiled weakly at her and she did the same.  
  
"Just thought I'd let you know some more bad news," she said, "you probably don't want to hear about this but.Stewart Hughes, one of Dad's co-workers, was found in the alley."  
  
Terry blinked, surprised. "Huh?"  
  
"He had been killed." She swallowed hard. "I know you didn't want to hear this, but I just got this news from the work and since you kinda knew of him.maybe you should know too."  
  
"When did this happen?"  
  
She thought quickly. "He was found four days ago, but he could've been laying there for awhile, so I don't know." She forced a smile and gave him a hug. "I love you, I just wanted to tell you that. I really love you."  
  
"I love you too Mom," he said.  
  
She smiled, leaving the room and closing the door behind her. Remembering Dana, Terry spoke into the phone.  
  
"Dana?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Looks like I have plans tonight. But we'll get together tomorrow, okay?"  
  
"Okay, sounds fine," she answered. "Well I'll talk to you later. Hope you feel better."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
He hung up, bringing the file back up and staring it for a moment.  
  
Things were getting out of hand. Even he could tell that. Jokerz running rampant in the streets, murders.  
  
Stewart Hughes. What if he was murdered the same day as his father?  
  
He straightened up, thinking.  
  
In that case, it was time for some law enforcement around here. And if no one was going to do it, then he damn well will.  
  
And he knew just where to go.  
  
  
  
  
  
Terry didn't know any other way to enter the batcave, so he went the straight way- through the mansion.  
  
Before leaving his house he packed several things he knew would be essential trying to get inside. He had experience with breaking in. It had been one of the reasons to why he had to serve parole for several months not far back.  
  
He didn't leave the house until well after dark and his mom and brother were asleep. He sneaked out his window, dropping down onto the grass below and started running.  
  
It took awhile to get there, but when he did he was already getting to work. Jumping the high wall he landed squarely on the front lawn of the Wayne Manor. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder again he went for the Manor, staying well hidden among the trees.  
  
He had been afraid that someone- or something would have stopped him by then. But so far so good.  
  
He was just approaching the house when loud barking split the silence. He turned to see Ace standing on the porch, snarling and barking.  
  
"Ack, can it," Terry muttered, walking bravely past him. "It's me."  
  
The dog sniffed in his direction, still growling. Terry tried the front door. It didn't open and he reached into his bag again.  
  
It didn't take long to get the door unlocked, and he pushed it open gently. No alarms went off.  
  
The dog tore in before him, disappearing into the darkness. Knowing his time was short Terry went straight for the clock.  
  
The batcave was the same way he had left it. He turned on the lights and descended the stairs. His stomach fluttered lightly with anticipation. Now that he was this far, he was no longer sure if he knew what he was doing. Or why.  
  
Opening the fifth glass display case, he reached out and touched the latest model of the Batsuit. He was right. The fabric was different. Firmer, thicker, harder.  
  
He pulled it off its stand, feeling the weight in his hands. He stood there, thinking about it hard. This would be the time to go back.  
  
No. The world needed a Batman. And if Bruce couldn't do it anymore he would.  
  
That decided, he started changing his clothes.  
  
  
  
Two things had awakened Bruce from his sleep. The first thing was the inconsistent soft beeping in his ear. The other was Ace.  
  
The Great Dane leapt onto his bed, causing him to stir and sit up. The dog was turning around and around, trying to get his attention.  
  
Then he figured out where the beeping was coming from.  
  
On the tableside was the trigger for the silent alarm. And it was beeping, flashing a red light. He stared at it for a moment, trying to get rid of the fatigue climbing over him again, then realized what had happened.  
  
The batcave had been broken into. 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven  
  
'This is amazing'.  
  
It took Terry awhile to get used to the batsuit, clumsily extending its wings and accidentally setting off the booster jetpack installed on the bottom of his feet. That accident sent him flying through the air over several buildings before crash landing on one a rooftop. The fall didn't hurt at all like he'd expect it to. The suit was shielding him somehow.  
  
Recovering his balance he got back to his feet and looked out over the city. With the suit he had been able to- literally, fly to the busier side of Gotham.  
  
He didn't know how long it would take before the old man found out. And when he did he didn't want to think about how he'd react.  
  
Just live it up while you've got it.  
  
He spent the next few minutes jumping and leaping from rooftop to rooftop. Most of the time he was able to jump right across, feeling the batsuit do the work as he landed softly on the next ledge. He was getting used to this. And when it came to the wider gaps between the buildings, he'd use the wings and fly across.  
  
It took three gaps to adjust to the batwings, and before long he was using them as a semi-pro, flying through the air and landing softly back down on the roof.  
  
It had been such a rush that Terry nearly forgot why he was out there and what he was wearing. He had to stop and remind himself.  
  
But it felt so cool. And for a brief couple of minutes he had been able to forget the pain, forget his father's death.  
  
He stopped on one rooftop and started searching the suit for anything useful- a rope? Batarangs? Hell, even a can opener would've sufficed, but there was nothing. He silently cursed himself for not looking around the batcave longer for ammunition of any kind. After all, why would Bruce stock up the suit when he wasn't going to plan on using it anytime soon?  
  
Forgetting the ammunition Terry continued along the rooftops for awhile, just enjoying his newfound freedom. Up here he could do anything, say anything and be anything he wanted.  
  
Loud sirens knocked him out of his daydreaming.  
  
He stopped to look over the edge. Far down below he could see police cars sliding to a stop in front of the Gotham Museum just across the street. It was one of the largest buildings in the whole city and widely known for its government displays on its history.  
  
He watched as police swarmed the building, guns cocked. Behind them the Commissioner stepped out of her car, raising a walkie-talkie to her ear.  
  
"Large and dangerous, has about thirty sticks of explosives with him. Need bomb squad here ASAP. Bring back-up."  
  
Terry didn't know how he was able to hear her. He doubted he would've been able to hear her even if he had been standing right next to her, but here he was more than thirty stories high and he heard her. Just barely.  
  
He stood there, trying to figure out what to do. Should he call Bruce and tell him? Find the bomb squad? Go down there and assist?  
  
No way. He was the Batman now. And he was going to do something about it himself.  
  
Trying to ignore the 'this is stupid' remarks floating through his head, he extended the wings and ignited the blasters, sending him up in the air and over the gap below. For a brief moment he felt the familiar sense of nothingness as he soared through the air. Then he started falling back down and he landed on the museum roof. He felt a sense of accomplishment as he closed the wings and started across the roof toward the glass opening in the center.  
  
Down far below he could see a large man standing the center, shouting something he couldn't hear. He had bombs strapped all over him. Terry's eyes widened. What kind of sicko is this?  
  
He couldn't hear what he was saying. Pressing his hands gently against the glass he tried leaning over, looking for an opening.  
  
And suddenly he could everything going on below, like as if he was there himself.  
  
He released the glass in surprise and the sounds disappeared. He hesitated, thinking, then pressed his fingers up against the glass again.  
  
"Somebody's got to stop the madness!"  
  
It didn't take long to realize what was going on. There were microphone chips- or whatever- installed into the fingerprints of the batsuit.  
  
Shway.  
  
Setting that aside briefly, he started looking for a way to get inside.  
  
  
  
  
  
Barbara Gordon took her position toward the front of the line, gun in one hand, megaphone in the other. She was standing in the doorway.  
  
Across the room, surrounded by display cases, was Mad Stan. He was grinning maniacally and had several sticks of dynamite sewn to his clothes.  
  
Mad Stan. How fitting.  
  
"We have you surrounded!" she shouted into the megaphone, "stop this now or we will be forced to take action!"  
  
Mad Stan laughed and started yelling again. His voice was powerful and carried around the room, echoing off the walls. "Go ahead and shoot! You think I care? Blow up the building yourself! Blow it all up!"  
  
She hesitated. They were going to have to do something soon and she didn't know how to reason with someone like this. Not when they already had the dynamite and could blow themselves up- and the entire building- in just a few seconds.  
  
"The entire political system is corrupt!" He screamed, the veins popping from his neck. He was still grinning. "Blow it all up!"  
  
Barbara sighed, turning back to her enforcers. "There's only one thing we can do."  
  
"We can't fire," one of the officers objected, "we'll ignite one of the bombs."  
  
She nodded. "I know. But what else can we do? If we just stay here he'll blow it up any second."  
  
"Somebody's got to stop the madness!" Mad Stan continued screaming, pacing the room. "I'm going to stop it! I'm going to blow it all up!"  
  
He continued yelling. She turned back to him and was about to speak into the megaphone again when something happened.  
  
A black blur flew through the air, colliding with Mad Stan from behind. Mad Stan cried out in surprise and fell forward, the bomb trigger sliding from his hand across the room toward Barbara Gordon.  
  
"Someone, go for it!" she yelled, and several police officers entered the room, diving for the trigger. She didn't pay attention. She was too absorbed in watching whatever was going on with Mad Stan.  
  
A black figure darted around him, punching and kicking, sending the psychopath across the room. His attacks were far too powerful to be from any normal human being.  
  
Then she recognized the sharp pointy ears and the bat design embalmed on the figure's chest.  
  
No. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible.  
  
Then Mad Stan got up and sent the bat across the room, hard enough to literally slam him Ithrough/I the wall.  
  
  
  
  
  
Oh man did that hurt.  
  
Terry could feel the wall collide with him and break away from the force of the throw. He hit the ground hard enough to send the air gushing out of his lungs, and he gasped for breath.  
  
What just happened?  
  
He had been fighting Mad Stan, careful enough not to ignite the bombs, when Mad Stan turned and actually slammed him through the wall.  
  
"Someone trying to be the hero?" Mad Stan gushed loudly, approaching the hole in the wall. "I say we blow you up too!"  
  
Get up Terry. Get up.  
  
Mad Stan started running toward him, his mouth open in a wide grin, his eyes wide. Terry leapt up, grabbing the wall for support and flipping over him, landing back on the ground.  
  
Mad Stan cried out in surprise and turned around angrily. Terry wasted no time pelting him, swing his arms and sending back onto the floor. It was surprising how effective his blows were. It wasn't just him fighting. It was the suit as well.  
  
Toward the entrance he could hear the police shifting, trying to figure out whether or not they should fire or just wait it out. They had no idea what was going on.  
  
"Blow this," he commented, his voice lower than he had intended, and gave him an upercut that sent him flying. Mad Stan hit the ground.  
  
Terry grinned despite himself, feeling flushed from the fight. He felt good. He never felt so good in his entire life. It made everything go away and he could feel himself getting pumped up.  
  
But it wasn't over.  
  
To his utter amazement, Mad Stan was getting back to his feet. Terry stared at him, eyes wide. How much could this guy take? No way could someone stand the blow he had just given him.  
  
He stood there waiting as Mad Stan got to his feet, glowering at the dark figure. He took a menacing step forward, reaching up to one of the grenades attached to his suit.  
  
Uh oh.  
  
Mad Stan threw the grenade and Batman dived to the side. The grenade hit one of the display cases of George Washington, and the entire set blew up. Flames spread across the room, heat filling the room.  
  
Mad Stan started laughing maniacally again, too distracted to look at the explosion then to notice Terry sneaking up behind him.  
  
Terry spun him around and gave him a mean right hook, sending Mad Stan back to the floor. He stood there, waiting for him to get back up, but he didn't.  
  
He was knocked out cold.  
  
Terry couldn't believe it. He stood there, staring at Mad Stan feeling the power building throughout his body. He had done it. He had stopped him.  
  
Police started swarming, followed by the Fire Department, sending water hoses toward the flames. He looked around, bewildered at first, then realized he had to get out of there.  
  
"Stop!" He heard a woman's voice ring out just as he took off, powering his jet packed boots and extending the wings. He looked down to see the Commissioner watching him lift off to the opening above.  
  
She didn't look happy at all.  
  
  
  
  
  
Terry couldn't possibly feel any better as he soared through the sky, feeling his entire body flushed from the battle. He had done it. He had actually done some good.  
  
Batman was back in business.  
  
It took him awhile to get over that excitement, leaping the rooftops and going deeper toward the older part of town.  
  
Then he got down to the business he had intended to do from the beginning.  
  
He had a good idea of where the Jokerz hideout was. And he was going to take care of them once and for long.  
  
  
  
  
  
When Bruce Wayne reached the cave, his worst fears had come true.  
  
The display case holding the latest model of the Batsuit was empty.  
  
He sighed deeply, then descended the stairs for the computer.  
  
"Computer," he said in a gruff voice. The computer whirred to action, its screens flashing, lights coming on.  
  
He seated himself in his chair, Ace lying down beside him. He sat there for a moment in silence, then began a city-search of the Batsuit.  
  
  
  
  
  
"You Doyle, watcha doin back there?"  
  
"Counting up the profit Tanner, shaddap will ya?"  
  
Tanner made a face, turning away from the TV screen to watch Doyle. He was seated at the table they had set up in the middle of the abandoned building. In front of him lay a whole pile of credits. Other Jokerz filled the area, idly watching TV, sleeping, or doing something or other in the corner. Doyle didn't care.  
  
"Look Doyle, if I find one of Power's credits missing I'll kill ya myself, you here?" Tanner got up from the couch. "That's not your creds!"  
  
"Chill Tanner." Doyle shoved the remaining credits back into the bag. "But what are we supposed to do with it?"  
  
"Go shopping," Tanner snapped, snatching the bag away. He tugged his purple suit straight, running a hand through his dyed-green hair.  
  
Terry crouched in the darkness, watching them from the corner. He literally hung off the ceiling just around the corner bend, listening to them. He kept his fingers outstretched slightly to pick their voices up easier. He could pick up every word being said.  
  
"Does Powers want us to do anything else?" A third Joker spoke up.  
  
"I don't know. Just told us to take care of that one guy. That's all I know." Doyle was reaching into his pockets.  
  
"Yeah. Who was that guy anyway?"  
  
The third Joker shrugged. "What do I care?"  
  
Terry felt his stomach fold. He swallowed hard.  
  
"I took his wallet," Doyle said, taking it out of his pocket. "We've got two-hundred creds worth here and an ID card. Worked for the Agicutal-"  
  
"'Agricultural' you idiot," Tanner said, swiping the wallet away. "Who cares? Just some old guy. Who cares about him?"  
  
He turned to go back to the television set, but something stopped him. A gigantic force rammed into him from behind and he went stumbling, crying out in surprise. At that moment all the Jokerz jumped to their feet, yelling in surprise.  
  
Terry dropped down on the ground, tucking his father's wallet in his belt. He crouched low in a ready position. The Jokerz were already recovering from their surprise.  
  
"Look!" Tanner exclaimed, spotting the pointy ears atop Terry's head. "We got ourselves a.uh." he hesitated. "Just what -are- you?"  
  
"Your worst nightmare," Terry snarled, swinging his fist. It collided with the Joker's face producing a satisfying snap, and the Joker was on the floor.  
  
Angry yells filled the room and all the other Jokerz moved in for the kill. Terry moved quickly, putting all his anger and pain behind his blows. They weren't nearly as tough to fight as Mad Stan, but because of their numbers they proved to be quite a challenge. He didn't care.  
  
"Terry."  
  
He started. The voice had come from his head. Distracted, he didn't block one of the Jokerz swings and he felt himself fall backward, stumbling.  
  
Where the hell did that voice come from?  
  
Terry leapt up onto the ceiling, feeling the suctions go to work beneath his feet and hands. The voice spoke again.  
  
"Terry."  
  
"Who is this?" Terry demanded, scrambling to give him room away from the Jokerz. The voice was coming through some sort of transmission through the cowl.  
  
"You return that suit Terry. You're stealing. I want it back right now."  
  
Then he recognized him. Bruce Wayne was contacting him somehow. Tanner attacked then and he blocked, dropping down to the ground and swinging his leg. He tripped him effectively sending Tanner crashing back to the ground.  
  
"Sorry," Terry said, "having too much fun."  
  
It came out a little more casual than he had expected, but he had to admit that this was fun. He was having fun.  
  
"The suit is not yours you bring it back now!"  
  
The Jokerz bombarded him then and Terry had to move extra fast to get them all off him. "Sorry, a little busy right now."  
  
Bruce Wayne didn't seem to care. His voice was a consistent annoyance as Terry tried to concentrate on the fight at hand.  
  
"I'm serious. Bring the suit back. I don't care what you're doing right now."  
  
Terry didn't answer, he continued fighting, making a move for the door. More and more Jokerz kept coming and he was beginning to realize it was a losing battle without aid.  
  
  
  
  
  
Bruce sat before the computer console, thinking. He eyed the button beside him, opened and ready for activating. He had installed it in case anyone bad had gotten to the suit. All he had to do was press the button and the costume would freeze.  
  
But Terry might get hurt.  
  
He frowned. But that was the choice Terry made when he stole the suit. And Bruce wanted it back.  
  
Taking a deep breath, he pushed the button.  
  
  
  
  
  
Terry was actually making some progress. Only a few Jokerz were left standing and all he had to do was-  
  
Oh no.  
  
The suit became stiff suddenly and he nearly fell off balance. He couldn't move. The suit wouldn't bend with his movement, it remained as stiff as a board.  
  
"No," he said, his mouth moving as far as the cowl would let him, "don't do this to me!"  
  
He didn't know how he was doing it, but Bruce Wayne had done this. Somehow he had done something and now he couldn't move.  
  
The Jokerz grinned maniacally at him when they noticed he wasn't moving. Terry's eyes widened with terror as they attacked, kicking and punching. Losing balance he hit the floor on his back. Sharp pains erupted from his sides as they kicked and punched him. He tried to move to stop them but he couldn't. He was helpless.  
  
"Bruce," he pleaded, "help me, don't do this-"  
  
But Bruce didn't do anything. He couldn't move. 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight  
  
Bruce sat there.  
  
Terry's grunts and cries of pain echoed throughout the cave from the speakers. He rested his head in his hands, waiting.  
  
He didn't know what he was waiting for. He was considering.  
  
Never before did he have to deal with something like this. No one had ever stolen the Bat suit before. So when something like it did happen, he wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want to do anything.  
  
Maybe age was effecting him more than he'd like.  
  
Ace sat up, ears perked at the noise coming in through the speakers. He looked at Bruce, almost as if waiting to see what he would do next.  
  
"Bruce," Terry's voice came through. "Let me go, I'll bring it back."  
  
He tried to say something else, but he gasped in pain and loud laughter erupted in the background. Bruce closed his eyes briefly.  
  
"Bruce, come on," Terry gasped. "Help me."  
  
He sounded ready to crack. Bruce opened his eyes and looked up, thoughts running wildly through his head.  
  
If he just let him stay like this, they'd kill him.  
  
He sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair, thinking.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Jokerz blurred past Terry's vision, each taking a turn beating him up. Then they stopped mercifully for a moment.  
  
He looked around through the cowl, trying to see what was going on.  
  
"Come on guys, let's try a new joke on this rat," Tanner sneered. He came back into view carrying a mean looking chain saw.  
  
Oh slag it. Here we go. Good-bye world.  
  
Tanner pulled the cord, activating the saw. It whirred loudly, its sharp chains evolving around in a circle. The other Jokerz backed up, some looking worried, others grinning.  
  
Tanner approached, his smile growing wider and wider. "Bye-bye, Rats!" he sneered. Terry could almost feel the heat emitting off the saw.  
  
Miraculously, the suit released its holding grip on him, and Terry could move again. He was almost too shocked to believe it, but then he reacted, kicking the chain saw handle out of Tanner's hands. It went flying, crashing onto the stone floor. It made a terrific noise, grinding against the ground.  
  
"Hey!" Tanner protested. Terry got to his feet and slugged him hard, knocking him out cold. Then he turned and went out the entrance, blasting his jet boosters and extending his wings to help him get out faster.  
  
When he emerged into the cool air outside, he breathed in deeply, flying up until he was on top of the building. His body still ached painfully from the fight.  
  
But that wasn't what he was worried about.  
  
Time to face the big guy.  
  
  
  
  
  
Bruce Wayne was waiting for him when Terry returned. He entered the batcave still wearing the suit. Bruce Wayne carried Terry's backpack in his hands and when he entered threw it at him. It opened and Terry's day clothes spilled out.  
  
"Take the suit off," he ordered.  
  
Terry obliged, taking off the cowl, but he didn't remove the suit right away. He scooped the backpack up off the ground.  
  
"Somebody had to do it you know," he told the older man, "and if not you, than I can."  
  
"Is that right?" Bruce demanded. "You were reckless. You have absolutely no idea what you're doing!"  
  
"I know enough to know that you can't do it and probably don't want anyone else to either!" Terry tossed the cowl aside, running fingers through his sweaty hair. "The world needs a new Batman, someone to uphold the law when the police can't! I'm willing to do it. I'm capable."  
  
"Don't think I don't know the real reason you went out there tonight McGinnis. I know what happened."  
  
"Sure, I know you do," Terry said sarcastically, taking off the suit, reaching for his clothes. "I saw the flowers."  
  
"I won't allow it."  
  
Terry changed back into his own clothes. "You spend all your time trying to keep this secret. I'm not going to tell anyone, I want to fulfill it."  
  
"No you won't."  
  
"Why not?" Terry stopped for a moment to look at him. "I'm qualified, I'm capable! I stopped Mad Stan tonight from blowing up the entire Gotham museum, what does that tell you? I can do this! We need another Bat and you know it."  
  
"No!" Bruce's voice echoed through the cave. "You will NOT wear the costume, you are NOT capable, and you don't even know HALF the responsibilities that come with the mask. You're nowhere qualified. I want you away from here and I never want to see you again!"  
  
There was a long silence as the two men stared at each other, an unspoken anger filling the cave. The only noise for a couple of moments were Ace's toenails shuffling against the rocky surface.  
  
"Fine."  
  
Terry bent down and picked up the suit, folding it neatly. "Fine. If that's what you say then fine." He looked back up at Bruce. "But I don't regret one second of tonight. I'm glad I did it and I don't care what you think or expect."  
  
Terry picked up the backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. He looked around for a place to set the costume, and placed on a nearby table that also held the Riddler's costume display. He shuffled his hands for a moment, then passed by Bruce. His stupid dog started growling again, but didn't move from his master's side.  
  
"Admit it," he said, "Gotham needs a new Batman. And you know it." With that he left for the stairs, leaving the suit lying folded on the floor.  
  
"Terry," Bruce stopped him. Terry turned and waited.  
  
"If I find out you hurt anyone critically tonight, tonight won't be the last you see of me."  
  
Terry hesitated. Bruce stood there, watching him. He wanted to say something, anything, but decided against it and disappeared through the entrance.  
  
Bruce Wayne leaned heavily against his cane, looking down at Ace. The dog stared up at him expectantly.  
  
"No," he said softly to himself. "No."  
  
  
  
  
  
The weekend passed uneventfully. Terry had expected a phone call of some sort from the old man, but he received none.  
  
He went back to school on Monday, and everyone was glad to see him again. Teachers were kind enough to dismiss late homework and he was at least grateful for that.  
  
"Did you see the newspapers?" Max spoke to him at the lockers. She held her own copy up. On the cover was a blurred photo of the interior of the Gotham Museum. In the distance he could just detect the Batman, shooting off toward the opening in the ceiling.  
  
"Isn't this interesting?" she gushed, grinning. "A new Batman in town!"  
  
"Yeah, I saw that," Dana said, wrapping her arms around Terry. "I heard the police are on the look out for him."  
  
Terry swallowed. "Look out? Why?"  
  
Max shrugged. "I guess they don't like him. No one knows who he is and they can't trust someone who takes the law in their own hands."  
  
"They seemed to accept him back in the old days."  
  
"Terry, the 'old days' didn't have the same culture or technology we have today," Max pointed out. "They needed him. Now however-"  
  
"But he apparently did good," Dana interrupted, "he saved people."  
  
Terry smiled inwardly.  
  
"I don't know," a voice spoke up, and they all turned to see Chelsea and Blade approaching them. Blade was speaking. "Some dark figure wearing a costume and fighting bad guys? Sounds pretty sexy to me."  
  
"You're crazy," Chelsea said, "sounds like some freak to me."  
  
Terry turned away then, closing his locker. "I'd better get to class," he told them, "see you guys after school or something."  
  
"Okay." Dana grinned and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm glad you're back."  
  
He forced a smile. "Yeah. Sure."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Derek Powers couldn't believe it.  
  
"What do you mean he had files?" he blew up, turning around to face Mr. Fixx who was sitting on the other side of his desk. "How did he get the files?"  
  
"I don't know, Mr. Powers," Fixx said, "but I saw Stewart Hughes give him some sort of disk. I'm guessing they have the photos or data or something."  
  
Powers ran a hand through his white hair, trying to think. If Powers had the disk that meant they had to be somewhere. And if someone got a hold of them-  
  
"Go by his house," he said, "do something- do anything! Just as long as you find that disk!"  
  
"Gladly sir," Fixx answered, getting to his feet and adjusting his tie. "I'll take care of it."  
  
"Good."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Bruce Wayne sat at the computer console thinking.  
  
He had just gone through what Terry had done, read the paper, and research to find out exactly what had happened the night before.  
  
Terry had, in fact, taken on a madman all on his own, disarmed him, challenged on a gang of Jokerz, and gotten away. Even after being put through the costume freezing process Bruce had put him through.  
  
He didn't want to admit it, but the boy was good.  
  
But he was reckless. And that was dangerous.  
  
Bruce did a quick run up on the city's recent history. Terry had been right. Gotham had become a place where the people had to fight for survival. Gangs rampaged the streets, Madmen like Mad Stan threatening the blow up buildings. Maybe.just maybe Gotham needed someone, some vigilant to help keep the peace. Maintain order.  
  
But no way could Terry handle it.  
  
"Just what were you thinking when you did it?"  
  
The voice had come from behind him. He turned in his chair to see Commissioner Barbara Gordon standing in the doorway watching him from the top of the stairs.  
  
"Barbara," he said, getting to his feet.  
  
"You must have thought I wouldn't find out," she said, walking down the steps. "I was there that night Bruce. Who is he?"  
  
"No one," he said quickly, "you won't be seeing him again."  
  
She stared at him for a long moment, then her eyes wondered over to the costume cases beside the stairs. The recent Bat model had been reinserted inside its display.  
  
"Are you sure about that?" she said.  
  
"Yes."  
  
She looked at him. "The world doesn't need a Bat, even if you think it does. We have it under control. Another bat wouldn't be help. It would be a nuisance."  
  
Bruce stared at her. "Are you sure Gotham doesn't need another bat?"  
  
She frowned at him. "Of course I'm sure. The bat is illegal. If I ever find out who he is I'll have to arrest him. And don't think I won't find out, I will. You know I can."  
  
He watched her open the case to the Batgirl costume. Her eyes ran over it briefly and he thought he detected sadness in her expression.  
  
"I see you sewed up the bullet holes," she commented simply. He didn't answer. She sighed, turning back to him. She put her hands in her coat pocket.  
  
"You know why I'm here Bruce and I want you to respect what I think. We don't need the bat. Never did, never will."  
  
Bruce didn't move. "Are you sure he was never needed?"  
  
She paused, thinking. Then she shook her head and started back up the stairs. He stayed there, watching until she was gone.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Terry look!"  
  
Matt tore through the hallway and into his older brother's bedroom. Terry looked up from his desk, quickly closing the laptop he had been working on. .  
  
"What is it," he asked.  
  
"Come on!" Matt grabbed his arm. Terry quickly grabbed the laptop with him and let his younger brother drag him back down the hall to the front room. The TV had been switched on. "Look!"  
  
Terry looked. It was the news station, showing the same exact picture that had been printed on the front page of the newspaper. He swallowed, seeing himself.  
  
"It's Batman!" Matt said excitedly, "like the stories! He must be like.a hundred years old!"  
  
Terry chuckled, thinking back to Bruce Wayne. "Almost," he said, sitting down on the couch. He opened the laptop. He had been researching his father's files again.  
  
"They say they're not sure it's Batman," Matt explained, "that it could be some wierdo in a costume trying to be like him. Isn't that weird?"  
  
"Sure," Terry commented.  
  
"Do you think we'll see him again."  
  
"Don't know."  
  
They sat there in silence, watching the program for a couple of minutes, when the doorbell rang.  
  
"I'll get it," Terry offered quickly, jumping up and setting the laptop aside. Matt was too engrossed with the news to object and Terry crossed the room to the front door.  
  
He opened the door, expecting it to be his mom perhaps, forgetting something or coming home early from the dinner and had forgotten her keys. But it wasn't.  
  
Mr. Fixx stood on the front stoop. 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine  
  
Terry frowned. "May I help you?" he asked. He tried to avoid looking at the scar down his face.  
  
"Perhaps," Mr. Fixx said in a deep voice. "My name is Mr. Fixx, I work for Derek Powers, your father's boss. You are?"  
  
Terry hesitated. "Terry McGinnis. Maybe you haven't heard or something but my father's-"  
  
"No, I know," Mr. Fixx interrupted, "I'm truly sorry about your father, I knew him well." He hesitated, looking past Terry and into the apartment. "May I come in? Is your mother around?"  
  
"She's busy," Terry answered, holding the door in its place. "Do you need something?"  
  
"I only needed to know about your father's files. Some of them he borrowed from the company and we'll need them back. I suppose you probably don't know anything about them?"  
  
Something flashed dangerously in Mr. Fixx's eyes and Terry blinked, remembering what he had overheard from the Jokerz the night before. "No, I don't know what you're talking about, but I'll ask if my mom knows when she's not busy."  
  
Mr. Fixx smiled charmingly, even though it wasn't much of an effect with his scar. "Please, I insist. May I come in and have a look around Doctor McGinnis' office? I promise it wouldn't take too long."  
  
Terry started to shake his head. "I'm sorry, now's not a good time. Try again later."  
  
Much later. Like never.  
  
He started to close the door, and that's when Mr. Fixx's smile vanished. He shoved the door open and Terry stumbled back, surprised.  
  
"Hey!" he shouted. Mr. Fixx entered the room, closing the door behind him. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?"  
  
Mr. Fixx grabbed Terry around the shirt collar and threw him out of his way. Terry crashed over the kitchen counter and onto the hard linoleum floor, feeling the air gush out of his lungs. "Matt!" he gasped, "Matt, get out of here!"  
  
Matt looked around wildly, trying to get away. Fixx grabbed the boy and threw him up against the wall. Terry got to his feet angrily and tried to pull him off, but Fixx was too strong. Terry found himself back on the floor.  
  
Fixx saw the laptop then and made a grab for it. Terry leapt up in his way and punched him across the face. It didn't nearly do as much damage as he'd hoped, and Fixx recovered quickly.  
  
"Matt, run now!" Terry shouted, grabbing the laptop and tossing it to his brother. Matt made a run for the door, throwing it open and getting safely outside. It gave Terry a chance to be alone with the stranger.  
  
"That wasn't smart, kid," Fixx snarled, "I'll just go after the boy instead."  
  
"Oh no you won't," Terry said, attacking him. The two of them struggled in the family room, tripping over the coffee table and smashing into the TV. Terry rolled away, grabbing a nearby umbrella from the stand as a weapon.  
  
Mr. Fixx froze, watching as Terry stood there, umbrella held out. He chuckled a little, getting to his feet.  
  
"You can't beat me Terry," he said. "Give it up now."  
  
"No way," Terry said, swinging the umbrella. Mr. Fixx caught it easily, yanking it from his hands and throwing it across the room. Terry turned and ran for the door, slipping on the linoleum as he yanked it open.  
  
"You're not getting way!" Fixx shouted, coming after him. Terry had no intention of escaping. He waited until Fixx was the right distance away before slamming the door wide open, hitting the man square in the face.  
  
He staggered back, hands flying up to his nose. Terry crouched slightly, fists up, waiting.  
  
By then they had caused enough racket to alert the neighbors. Doors opened and heads poked out, curious. Matt stood in the hallway, clutching the laptop in his arms. His eyes were wide with fright.  
  
"Matt, get out of here!" Terry shouted, but he was cut off when Mr. Fixx attacked him, yelling angrily. Terry cried out, slamming up against the wall. Using all his strength he kneed the man between the legs. Fixx bent over in pain and Terry elbowed him in the face, sending him sprawling across the hallway.  
  
Cries of surprise emerged from the neighbors as Terry backed up, chest heaving. Mr. Fixx climbed slowly to his feet, face smeared with blood.  
  
"Someone call the police!" someone shouted. Mr. Fixx heard and looked around wildly. Then he saw the laptop clutched tightly in Matt's arms. He made a dive for him and Matt screamed, dropping the laptop.  
  
"No!" Terry yelled, trying to stop him, but Mr. Fixx had already scooped up the laptop and was running for the stairs. Terry went after him, ignoring the shouts of surprise from the doorways around him.  
  
Mr. Fixx clattered down the stairs noisily, Terry close behind him. They reached the ground floor and Fixx went straight for the exit.  
  
Terry went after him through the doors, nearly skidding to a stop as he ran into a crowd of people passing on the busy streets. He looked around wildly for the man and saw him running down the street, disappearing around the nearest alley.  
  
He cursed wildly and went after him, coming to a stop inside the alley. Without thinking he went in, running as fast as he could.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Bruce Wayne normally didn't do courtesy visits, but Derek Powers had insisted on having him come by and take a look at Wayne Enterprises. And it gave him a chance to get out of the manor, concentrate on other things.  
  
For a change.  
  
He stood in the main foyer of the Agriculture building, leaning on his cane. Derek Powers had just gotten done showing him through the laboratories of department and so far he hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary.  
  
Even so he couldn't help feeling the nervousness Derek tried to conceal behind a fixed smile and deep eyes.  
  
"Thank you for your time Mr. Wayne," Mr. Powers was saying, leading him to the door. "It's always a pleasure being inspected by you and we hope you find everything to your normal standards."  
  
"Yes," Bruce answered, "I'll be contacting you for future visits."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"And a quick question."  
  
Mr. Powers looking sharply at him. "Yes?"  
  
"I just want to clarify that I still hold authority over this corporation and I hold it on to you to keep its research experiments permissible and legitimate while you hold your position in its building."  
  
"Of course Mr. Wayne."  
  
"And if there are any.questionable acts under this corporation I will hold you personally responsible," he continued, looking at Mr. Powers. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence and he flashed a small smile. "Not that I'd ever have to be permitted to do so."  
  
Mr. Powers let out a small sigh of relief. "Of course Mr. Wayne. You can always depend on my authority over the company."  
  
Sure.  
  
They stepped outside where Mr. Wayne's car had been pulled up. The driver hopped out from behind the wheel, rounding around the vehicle to hold the back door open.  
  
"What are your plans for the rest of the day?" Bruce said, not yet getting in.  
  
Mr. Powers shuffled slightly. "Doing surveillance on one of our projects tonight," he replied, "shouldn't take too long. Do you need assistance with something?"  
  
Bruce Wayne started to answer, when loud yelling erupted from behind them. They both turned to see a scarred-faced man emerge out of the alley and race past them, clutching a laptop inside his coat flap.  
  
Derek's eyes widened slightly and took a step forward. "Mr. Wayne I-"  
  
The scarred man took one look at Bruce and Derek, then disappeared in a nearby car, starting the ignition. He drove away, nearly causing two cars swerving to avoid hitting him.  
  
"Stop! Stop!"  
  
Another figure emerged from the alley, and this time Bruce was the one to respond. He narrowed his eyes as Terry came out on the street, looking around wildly. He turned and saw Bruce standing there, watching him.  
  
"Mr. Wayne-" he began, but Bruce cut him off.  
  
"Get in the car," he said sternly.  
  
Terry hesitated, but Bruce was already turning to say good-bye to Derek Powers. Mr. Powers was stunned, looking past Bruce and down the street where the car had disappeared around the corner. Terry looked around, trying to figure out if Bruce had even been talking to him. Then, noticing the driver watching him with the open door, he climbed in.  
  
The interior was all leather. It looked like a limo with a TV in one corner and a small refrigerator in the other. He sat there, not sure what to do as the driver stood where he was, waiting for Bruce to climb in.  
  
No one spoke as the door closed and Terry moved over to give the older man room. The driver got back in behind the wheel and started the car, moving out into the traffic.  
  
Finally Terry spoke.  
  
"I'm sorry but that man stole my dad's laptop-"  
  
Bruce moved his cane suddenly, causing Terry to shut his mouth. But all he did was use the cane to press the button on the side of the door. There was a whirring sound and the window shut between them and the driver, sealing them away.  
  
"I didn't ask you in here for an explanation," Bruce said. "I already know."  
  
"You do?"  
  
There was another long silence. Terry shifted uncomfortably, suddenly wanting to get out of the car. Anything was better than this.  
  
"Mr. Derek Powers hired Mr. Fixx to keep his research experiments a secret. He can and will do anything to keep it quiet. That included your father."  
  
Terry was silent.  
  
"I've looked up your history," Bruce interrupted. "Been on parole several times for break-ins, damages-"  
  
"Yeah yeah, I know," Terry stopped him, flushing. "What's your point? I thought you didn't want me around."  
  
"You want to take on the responsibility?"  
  
He looked up, surprised. "What-?"  
  
Bruce looked at him. "You have to prove you can."  
  
"Didn't I already do that?"  
  
"What you did was reckless and dangerous and you could've gotten someone killed."  
  
"Yeah but I didn't!" Terry was starting to get worked up again. "I didn't kill anyone and you know that so-"  
  
"Do you want the responsibility or not?" Bruce interrupted, looking sharply at him. Terry closed his mouth and sat back. "One chance Terry, that's it."  
  
There was another silence. Terry wondered briefly if the driver knew any of this stuff. Then decided against it. If he did that window wouldn't have been closed. Bruce Wayne seemed to be waiting for an answer. It must have taken him a lot of thinking to bend this far and even have this conversation with him.  
  
"I left my brother alone in the apartment building-" he began.  
  
"Don't worry about it," Bruce said, "I'll have someone contact your mother."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Don't worry, she won't find out."  
  
Terry nodded slowly, leaning casually back in his seat. One chance huh? And if he passed he could be Batman, no questions asked. But if he didn't-  
  
Didn't matter. He'd do it anyway.  
  
"Okay," he agreed. 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten  
  
They spent the remainder of the day down in the Batcave. Training.  
  
Terry found out right away that there was so much more to being the Batman than to flying and beating up bad guys. There were techniques to everything, solutions behind solutions. The Batcave was still in working order and Bruce Wayne put him through a quick work out run through the simulator, testing his abilities.  
  
It was the hardest hours of his life.  
  
Terry learned how to fight in regular combat all the way up to pressed in atmospheres with five or more opponents, all carrying laser weapons. He soon learned not to take them for granted. Those suckers could sting badly. They never did any bad damage, but they hurt enough to make him want to keep from getting hit.  
  
"Never stop moving," Bruce told him. "Watch every angle, keep your eyes open- move! Don't stop moving!"  
  
Several times Terry wanted to quit from exhaustion, but all he had to do was take one look at the Batsuit hanging back in its display, and he would get back up and do it again. He didn't care how tough it was, he was going to prove he was worthy of the mantle.  
  
After that he found out about the weapons *he* got to use.  
  
"Updated Batarangs," Bruce explained, holding up the small bat-shaped disk. "Insert in the wrists of the suit. To unleash them you have to apply pressure here-" he indicated spots on the suit- "and here. Pellets." He held up the tiny silver balls. "Never drop unintentionally. They can fill up an entire room in less than five seconds. Make sure you know your exits *before* unleashing them-"  
  
And on down the line they went.  
  
But Terry's favorite device was the belt.  
  
"Twist the switch here," Bruce indicated, twisting the centerpiece on the belt. The entire suit disappeared from view. Terry's eyes widened in surprise. Bruce simply twisted it again and the suit reappeared.  
  
"Camouflage," he explained. "Use it wisely."  
  
Oh yeah.  
  
While Terry got a drink of water and sat down for awhile, Bruce took his position behind the computer.  
  
"You're going out tonight," he said.  
  
Terry looked up, startled. Here he was, having practically sweated through his gym clothes, more tired than he'd ever felt, and now he was supposed to go out?  
  
"What?"  
  
"Derek Powers is supervising the test subjects in the agricultural department of Wayne Enterprises. You can check it out."  
  
"Powers?" Terry stood up, suddenly forgetting his weariness. "When."  
  
"Here's the location." Then he added, "If you feel you're up to it."  
  
Terry understood that voice. It was the 'you-wanted-this-chance-and-if-you- don't-do-it-you're-out' voice.  
  
"I'm going."  
  
Wayne swiveled around in his chair, watching Terry take the costume out of its display. "This is your one and only chance Terry," he reminded him. "Act wisely. No one dies tonight."  
  
Terry didn't answer. He disappeared in the shadows changing. Even though he had made a deal, he couldn't exactly promise the last part.  
  
After all, Powers was responsible for his father's death.  
  
  
  
  
  
"You let yourself be seen!"  
  
Derek Powers couldn't believe it. He had met up with Mr. Fixx inside the laboratory and he was angry.  
  
"There were complications-" Fixx began, but Derek didn't listen.  
  
"I don't care! You were seen! Two punk kids saw you and you didn't even get rid of them. You let the entire street see you when you were running away, holding a *laptop* in your arms! You know what that looks like?"  
  
Mr. Fixx narrowed his eyes. "I did what I had to. You're the one who hired me Mr. Powers. You either take my way or I quit. I still want my payment."  
  
"You were told to keep anyone from looking in our direction. What do you call what you did today?"  
  
The laboratory was huge. Mostly covered in white there were a few selected doctors inside, checking their computer read-outs before bringing out the test-subject. Behind them was a staircase leading up to a catwalk that led out to the ground floor. All doors were locked at the moment.  
  
Derek was not having a good day. In fact ever since word got out about the experiment he had been having bad days. He had tried so hard to keep things under wraps- and at first he thought he had, hiring Mr. Fixx. But now he wasn't so sure. Mr. Fixx liked to work at his own pace in his own way. And Derek wasn't sure he appreciated that anymore.  
  
"Mr. Powers," a voice spoke up, and they both turned to see Doctor Sherit coming their way. He was a middle-aged man with graying hair, dressed in the recommended white lab coat and plastic gloves.  
  
"Yes?" Derek answered, sounding slightly annoyed.  
  
"We're ready to bring out the test subject."  
  
His lip curled with anticipation, looking past the doctor to the room where the subject had been held for the last few hours. "Excellent. Bring him out."  
  
  
  
  
  
Terry thought he liked the belt the most. But that was before he was introduced to the car.  
  
It was dark as night and curved for accessibility in the air. Big enough to fit approximately two or three people- if they squeezed, and even came with a stereo system.  
  
"I get to drive this?" Terry asked anxiously, coming out dressed in the batsuit and finding the vehicle in the middle of the cave. Bruce stood beside it, waiting.  
  
"What did you expect to drive?" he answered. "Don't scratch it."  
  
Oh. Sure.  
  
The car also came with a transmission that connected it with the cave, so while Terry was out in the air with it, he *still* had to listen to the older man's voice.  
  
"Don't be too aggressive," Bruce was saying through the speakers. It was like he could see everything Terry was doing-, which was probably the case. Terry gripped on hard to the controls, trying to drive it like a regular car, but the vehicle just wouldn't react the same way.  
  
"It's attached to the suit," Bruce told him, "relax, let the car do the flying."  
  
Oh. Okay.  
  
"Here's the location again."  
  
A monitor came alive from the control panel in front of him, and he could see a crude outline of the Gotham City map. In one section there was a blinking light, indicating his destination.  
  
"Got it," he said, turning the vehicle in that direction.  
  
"One chance Terry, that's it," came the reminder. Terry ignored him. For all he knew, he wasn't Terry anymore.  
  
Batman was back in action.  
  
  
  
  
  
The test subject was a man in his mid-twenties, tall and muscular with blond hair. They had dressed him up in only a pair of white shorts and by the way he was acting, hadn't been informed at all about what *exactly* the experiment was.  
  
"Ah," Derek greeted him warmly, extending a hand. "I'd like to thank you for being so kind as to volunteer to be our test subject."  
  
The man laughed charmingly, shaking his hand. "Doesn't hurt to do a few tests on organic chemicals, huh?" he shook his head, "Name's Ted Williams."  
  
"Pleased to meet you Mr. Williams. Have the doctors already informed you of what they'll be doing with you tonight?"  
  
"I believe so," he said, looking back at the doctors, smiling. "I'm all ready."  
  
"Perfect. And just for caution, you *are* in good condition, been to the doctor recently and volunteered for this through paperwork and selection, am I correct?"  
  
"Right."  
  
One of the doctors stepped forward to help Ted in his place. The testing was to take place in a glass room shut away from the rest of them, a table set up in the center with straps attached. Derek watched them lead him into the room, waiting on the other side of the glass. Mr. Fixx approached him, looking through the glass gravely.  
  
"It'll be his death," he pointed out subtly, watching the doctors strap the man onto the table.  
  
Derek merely shrugged.  
  
"He volunteered."  
  
Doctor Sherit approached him then. "Mr. Powers," he said once the door was closed between them and Ted, "we will be exposing diluted our toxins mixture to Mr. Williams, so he will be only exposed to 1/32 the original impact of the mixture. Bullet-proof glass will make sure we don't get exposed as well."  
  
Derek nodded, "okay."  
  
"If ever there is an accident and the pipes are broken aligning the experimenting room-" the doctor pointed out the pipe lining across the wall above the glass room, "we need to evacuate immediately."  
  
Derek forced a smile. "Not that that will ever be necessary, Mr. Sherit," he assured him, "I'm perfectly confident in your control."  
  
Mr. Sherit nodded and backed away, but didn't look completely convinced. He turned to the other doctors who were standing at the controls. "Okay!" he called out.  
  
They flipped the switch and for a minute all eyes were on Ted Williams.  
  
He didn't seem to notice anything different inside the glass room. He lay there, looking around, monitors hooked up to his body for his heart rate. Nothing happened.  
  
Then slowly a green mist started to form in the room, pressing up lightly against the glass. Derek took a step forward, watching intently, eyes wide with anxiety.  
  
Mr. Fixx stepped back cautiously, not sure what he was about to witness next.  
  
A few minutes happened and nothing happened to Ted. He was still looking around, breathing normally. The heart rate was the same.  
  
Derek turned around. "Nothing's happening, doctors," he said.  
  
"That's good," Doctor Sherit said, "we've finally found a mixture diluted enough for humans to withstand."  
  
Derek wasn't satisfied. "Put in more."  
  
He could feel the doctors all staring at him in disbelief. He sighed heavily. "Put in more," he repeated, his voice suddenly harsh.  
  
"But sir-"  
  
"Just do it!"  
  
They jumped and one of them turned to the controls, turning the knob up slightly.  
  
"More."  
  
Doctor Sherit looked pleadingly at Mr. Powers. "Mr. Powers please, we don't want to kill the man, we just want to find the right dilution so we can use it on the produce-"  
  
"How do you know how much a person can withstand, doctor?" Derek interrupted. "That's what I want to know. Turn it up."  
  
He waited a few more minutes, watching Ted Williams intently through the glass. All the doctors were looking at him warily, suddenly feeling afraid.  
  
Then Ted started screaming.  
  
It was a horrible sound and even caused Derek and Mr. Fixx to step back in alarm. Ted continued screaming and struggled to sit up. His skin was dissolving at a rapid pace.  
  
"Stop!" Doctor Sherit screamed, "shut it off!"  
  
But they didn't have to. Whistling sounds flew through the room and before they knew it the control pad was sparking, its wires suddenly exposed. A bat-shaped disk stuck out from the pad, but effectively hitting the switch to turn the gas off.  
  
Batman dropped down in the center of the room, crouching low. The doctors all gasped when they saw him, running around him for the exit, but Batman didn't care. He was looking at Derek Powers and Mr. Fixx.  
  
Then he looked past them to the experimental room.  
  
"That's just wrong," he said in a deep voice.  
  
Derek was angry. It was his greatest experiment and this *freak* had ruined it for him. Yelling angrily he ran for the Bat, arms outstretched as if to tackle him. Batman simply flipped him over his back, throwing him across the room. Derek hit the ground hard.  
  
Batman looked around for a way to get the man out of the experimental room, but he was cut off when Mr. Fixx chose that time to attack him.  
  
The difference between Mr. Fixx and his boss was their obvious strength. When Derek had attacked him earlier he didn't even flinch. But Mr. Fixx-  
  
Batman found himself flying across the room, crashing into the control panel. He definitely felt that, but surprisingly not enough to keep him from getting up. Mr. Fixx was attacking him again.  
  
He blocked his blows effectively and flipped him over, sending him over the control panel and onto the floor. By then Derek Powers had recovered and was getting back to his feet.  
  
"You ruined it!" he shouted angrily, staggering toward him. Batman watched him. For some powerful guy he sure looked pathetic at that moment.  
  
"You ruined it!" Derek shouted again, regaining balance. "My experiment, you destroyed it! You *freak*!"  
  
Oh like that hurt him.  
  
Batman didn't have time to deal with Powers. Mr. Fixx was already back up and getting close to pounding him again. Batman backed away, looking around. Ted Williams was still in the glass room, but the gas had stopped flowing through. If he could get to him somehow without exposing the gas to anyone else-  
  
The doctors had already disappeared from the room and all that was left was Mr. Fixx and Powers.  
  
No huge loss to humanity. Okay then.  
  
Batman made a move toward the glass room, but something caused him to turn back around. Mr. Fixx had stepped aside briefly and there stood Mr. Powers, a gun in his hand.  
  
Okay move, move, move!  
  
He dodged as fast as he could, flipping over just as Derek fired. The bullet bounced off the bulletproof glass, ricocheting back. Derek continued firing and Batman started running. He didn't know how much the suit could withstand, but he didn't want to risk getting shot if the suit couldn't shield bullets. Another thing to ask Bruce when he got back.  
  
Derek was yelling now, trying to hit the Bat. Batman jumped up to the wall above the glass room and flipped off, effectively getting to the other side of the room. Derek wasn't fast enough and fired just above the glass, puncturing the pipes.  
  
Mr. Fixx's eyes widened, remembering the warning Powers had gotten from the doctor earlier, and backed up, looking for an exit. Green liquid was flowing from the puncture, eating through the metal and spilling out onto the concrete floor. The room filled with an intoxicating smell, causing Batman to search his belt for some sort of mask. Did he remember to pack one?  
  
Then he found it, attaching it to his face quickly and then looking for an exit. If they didn't get out now-  
  
"No!" Derek was screaming, lowering the gun. "No!" He was looking at the overflowing pipes, trying to back away. The toxins on the floor were already eating away at his shoes.  
  
"Get out!" Batman yelled.  
  
Derek turned to run, but the pipes completely cave way and a wall of green toxins came spilling out, covering him entirely. Batman watched in horror, helpless to do anything. Even if he tried to do something Powers was good as dead now.  
  
Mr. Fixx let out a strangled cry and turned, running up the stairs and onto the catwalk. Batman followed in quick pursuit, extending his wings and flying across the room. They both got out through the front door, but Fixx kept running.  
  
The doctors that had escaped earlier were still there. Batman stopped briefly to speak to them, but was off after Fixx again.  
  
"There's been a chemical spill. Powers is still in there."  
  
Mr. Fixx disappeared around the corner and Batman quickly pursued. It was dark out and he could barely see. Remembering what Bruce had told him earlier he flicked a switch on his belt and his vision turned infrared.  
  
Clear as day. Sort of.  
  
As he rounded the corner he found out what Fixx was after. A small modern plane had been stored there and Fixx was getting in behind the controls, starting it up. Batman quickened his speed. No one was going to escape as long as he was around.  
  
The plane lifted into the air just as Batman reached it, reaching up to grab onto its wings. Fighting the sudden altitude he climbed onto the wings, clinging on to the side to keep from falling off. The plane lifted higher and higher and he looked down briefly to see where they were going.  
  
Toward the ocean. Great.  
  
He straightened up, moving toward the cockpit. Mr. Fixx by then had realized he was still there, and tried swerving the pane. Batman lost balance for a split second, sprawling across the wing. He clung on hard to the surface, clenching his teeth. The wind beat against him and he struggled to get back up, turning back toward the cockpit.  
  
Spying the window on the side of the plane Batman headed in that direction instead, gripping on to the side with his hands. Something in the suit helped him cling on effectively, but he still had to work on not getting blown away. Collecting all his strength he jumped up and kicked hard at the window.  
  
The glass shattered and he slid through, dropping down inside the cargo side of the plane. The open window caused an imbalance and Mr. Fixx fought to keep the plane steady.  
  
Trying to keep his balance Batman approached him, arms spread out to keep from slamming into the sides. He was too absorbed in that to realize Mr. Fixx had left the cockpit until he was practically upon him.  
  
Batman felt the punch and staggered off balance, falling toward the back of the plane. He looked at Mr. Fixx in disbelief. What was he doing leaving the cockpit?  
  
He got to his feet and sent his own punch across Fixx's face, causing him to stagger back toward the controls. Batman followed. If no one was going to drive this thing he would.  
  
Despite the fact that he had no idea how. But that was just details.  
  
Reaching the front he searched the controls, trying to figure out a way to land or steer. They were above the water now.  
  
Mr. Fixx grabbed him then and threw him forward. Batman hit the controls hard and flipped over, trying to free his legs to kick him away. But Fixx already had something else in mind.  
  
He was holding two of the meanest looking electric clasps that he had hooked up to the front. The sparked in the dark, looming over Batman's face threateningly. He started to thrust them down on him, but Batman grabbed his wrists just in time, holding them away.  
  
It wasn't enough though. Mr. Fixx was pretty strong for a man and he continued pressing the clasps down, getting them closer and closer to Batman's face. Batman struggled, pushing them away as far as he could.  
  
"You're pretty strong," Mr. Fixx said in-between grunts as he tried pushing the clasps down, fighting against Batman, "for some clown who thinks he's Batman."  
  
It was the first time someone had actually referred to him as Batman to his face. Batman struggled against the clasps. "No," he answered, "I *am* Batman."  
  
Then he was gone.  
  
He had managed to twist away from the controls and release Mr. Fixx's arms. Mr. Fixx, not realizing this fast enough, plunged the electric clasps down onto the control panel.  
  
The plane lit up in enough electric light that it reminded Batman of the giant Christmas tree they had always put up downtown every year. He held up an arm to shield himself, then realized he'd better get out of there if he wanted to live through all this.  
  
Mr. Fixx was screaming, trying to pull away from the clasps, but he was electrically drawn to them. The control panel sparked and fizzed and alarms went off. The plane was dipping. Batman tried to get to him, but the interior was starting to fall apart, blocking him from the cockpit.  
  
Pressing the button on his belt to alert the batmobile, he kicked the side door open and leapt out into the cool air, extending his wings and firing the blasters at the bottom of his boots to lift him up into the air. He turned just as the plane, a giant ball of flame, hit the ocean below, creating a deafening exploding sound.  
  
Batman reached the peak of his height, then felt himself falling again. At that moment he heard a light whirring sound and the Batmoble pulled up below, latch open. He dropped down inside, nearly missing the chair and effectively pulling a muscle in his leg.  
  
Crawling up to the front he settled himself in the chair, breathing hard. It was hot underneath the costume and he was sweating.  
  
He spent a few quick minutes there, flying the batmoble around, thinking.  
  
There was nothing else he could do now. Powers was dead no doubt, but that wasn't his fault. Mr. Fixx was dead as well, but Batman hadn't given him those clasps. It wasn't his fault.  
  
But yet he couldn't help feeling responsible. And he didn't feel anywhere near the satisfaction he had hoped to feel when Derek Powers got his comeuppance.  
  
He felt mortified.  
  
Taking a deep breath, he put the mobile on autopilot and set the destination for the cave. He didn't quite feel like driving that night anymore. 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven  
  
  
  
Terry jumped out of the batmobile, pulling off the cowl and tossing it aside. He didn't even look at Bruce Wayne who was sitting in his chair waiting for him, hands upon his cane.  
  
Terry had arrived at the lab in time to see the test subject, Ted Williams, be strapped up inside the glass room. He remained crouched on the ceiling his camouflage belt activated, watching and listening.  
  
Then when the experiment started to go too far, he spun into action.  
  
Now he regretted everything.  
  
What did he achieve? Ted Williams died, Derek Powers died, Mr. Fixx died. He didn't achieve anything. He couldn't even save Ted.  
  
Finally Bruce Wayne spoke.  
  
"What did you think would happen?"  
  
Terry scowled, disappearing into the shadows to change back into his regular clothes. "I'll understand if you want me out for good. I won't bother you anymore."  
  
"Why did you want to be Batman, Terry?"  
  
Terry pulled his shirt on over his head. Now that the question was being asked, he wasn't too sure how to answer it.  
  
"I don't know," he answered. "Wanted to do something."  
  
Bruce frowned, looking down at the floor. Ace lay curled up beside him. "What happened tonight?"  
  
Terry laughed. It was a hollow one. "Don't you know?"  
  
"I want to hear it from you."  
  
"Mr. Fixx is dead, the test subject is dead, and so is Mr. Powers."  
  
Bruce looked sadly up in his direction. "Didn't you do anything to avoid it?"  
  
"I tried." Terry emerged from the shadows, dressed in his regular clothes. He held the suit in his arms. He set it down on the computer console and moved to leave the cave.  
  
"Terry stop."  
  
Terry did, slowly turning back around. Bruce didn't move from his position, watching him from his chair. He stood there uncertainly.  
  
"Sit down."  
  
He looked around for a chair, but there really wasn't one so he sat down on the steps. He didn't want to be there but he figured he'd stay around long enough to listen to Bruce for awhile.  
  
There was a long silence. Terry shifted uncomfortably. Finally Bruce spoke.  
  
"I thought I set down the rules."  
  
Oh boy.  
  
"I know," Terry said, "I tried to do something but-" he trailed off, not sure how to even start explaining himself. He looked down at the ground.  
  
"I'm sorry about your father."  
  
"That's decent of you."  
  
"My parents died pretty much the same way, mauled in the streets when I was only six years old."  
  
Terry looked up, surprised. Bruce Wayne wasn't looking at him and he could tell by the way he spoke that he didn't talk about this often. For the first time he was opening up to him.  
  
"I'm sorry," he stammered, not entirely out of sympathy but because he didn't really know what else to say.  
  
Bruce nodded, looking up. "It did the same thing your father's death did to you. Ultimately it created the Batman."  
  
Terry wanted to say something but decided against it. This was one of those rare moments. He didn't want to ruin it.  
  
"There were others," Bruce continued, "others that wanted the same responsibilities, others that wanted to do something about Gotham. But none of them held on to the mantle long." He looked down and Terry saw sadness pass over his face. "That could be my fault, but the point is it's long done. Can you keep and bring honor to the sign?"  
  
Terry started. "I thought I failed, you said no one dies-"  
  
"I know what I said."  
  
"Then what are you getting at?"  
  
"I know what happened tonight, I have my connections, I have the links." Bruce tapped on the speakers briefly, and Terry suddenly remembered how Bruce had been able to communicate with him earlier.  
  
"Then you know how I feel right now." Terry stood up and turned back around, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "I'll see you later. Or something."  
  
He left the cave through the mansion, leaving Bruce Wayne sitting at the computer console.  
  
  
  
  
  
It wasn't that Terry didn't want to Batman. Far from it. He just hadn't expected what had happened when he actually went out there as the Bat. And Bruce Wayne didn't seem too happy about it either.  
  
He returned home to find his mother sitting on the front couch, waiting. The TV was off, but the lights were on.  
  
And she was angry.  
  
"Where *were* you?" she demanded, getting up. She was wearing a silk nightgown with a blue robe wrapped around. "I've waited up all night, I was worried sick!"  
  
"I'm sorry Mom," Terry said, "I was- I was-"  
  
"Running around town while *I* sat here, worrying about you? I called everyone you knew! Dana didn't know where you were, Jared had no idea, hasn't talked to you in days, and he's supposed to be your best friend!"  
  
"I'm sorry, I just needed some time by myself-"  
  
"In the middle of the night? I know about the attack that happened here, Matt told me all about it."  
  
Oh yeah. In all the excitement of that night he had nearly forgotten it had happened. "Oh yeah," he said, "I ran out and I couldn't find him and-"  
  
Mary McGinnis expression changed as she checked him over. "Are you okay? Matt said you got in quite a brawl- did he hurt you? Are you okay-"  
  
"I'm *fine*," he insisted, pulling away, "don't worry about me. I was just helping out Mr. Wayne, I bumped into him on the street when I was following him and-"  
  
"That's right, Mr. Wayne did call me," she remembered, "but she didn't tell me you'd be gone *all* day! What have you been doing?"  
  
"Just.nothing. I'm tired I'm going to go to sleep."  
  
"Did they catch him? The man that broke in here?"  
  
"Uh yeah. He's gone."  
  
His voice sounded strangely hollow when he said it, but she didn't question him anymore. He moved around her and down the hall, backpack still slung over his shoulder. She watched him disappear into his room, then sighed heavily and went into her own.  
  
Terry's entire body ached as he lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He hadn't bothered to turn on the light and he lay there in the dark, thinking. He didn't bother to change out of his day clothes. He just lay there until fatigue swept over and he fell asleep.  
  
  
  
  
  
Paxton Powers waited impatiently outside the hospital room pacing, hands stuck in his pockets. He hadn't really been asleep when he was called late that night at his penthouse, but he sure looked like it. His hair was uncombed and sticking out at strange angles, his suit was rumpled from being put on hurriedly. He didn't wear a tie and he had stubble around his cheeks and chin, barely seeable but there nonetheless.  
  
The hospital room was part of Wayne Enterprises. When Paxton had been called about his father's condition he had to find a good medical team that could take care of him and keep it secret as well. This was the only place that could do both.  
  
He didn't know quite for sure what had happened at the medical lab, but an explosion had occurred, spilling toxins all over the place. His father had been caught up in the explosion and Paxton had hurriedly brought him to the hospital.  
  
Somehow he had survived. Barely.  
  
"Mr. Powers," a voice spoke up, and Paxton turned to see a pretty dark- haired woman approach him, wearing the nurse's uniform. "Mr. Powers?"  
  
"Yes?" he answered anxiously, taking his hands out of his pockets and clasping them together nervously. "Yes? Is he okay?"  
  
"He's alive," she answered, "but." she trailed off, not sure how to explain it. He felt his heart skip a beat.  
  
"What?" he demanded, "What's wrong?"  
  
"Perhaps you should come see for yourself."  
  
All right then. He followed him down the hallway, walking quickly. She carried a clipboard and she looked down at it, reading the charts.  
  
"The accident left Mr. Derek Powers in a condition like nothing we've ever seen before," she explained, "we don't know how he did it but he's alive. The toxins left him in a different state however and we're doing studies to see how we can fix it."  
  
Her words flew through her mind. Condition? Toxins? State? Studies? Fix?  
  
"What happened?" he demanded again, losing his patience. No one was giving him a straight answer in this place.  
  
"Here sir," she stopped walking and turned down the next hall. "Past those doors."  
  
He glanced at them warily, then nodded. "Thank you miss."  
  
He hurried down the hall, pushing the double doors open and coming to a new hallway. He quickened his pace to a slow run, passing orderlies and nurses as he went. Finally he reached the room.  
  
Before he could open it the door opened and someone stepped out. It was a doctor.  
  
"Sir, I advice you to stay back," he told him. Paxton stood there, blinking.  
  
"Why? What's wrong with him?"  
  
"We don't know but-"  
  
He was cut off by low laughter coming from behind him. Paxton looked past him into the room and realized that all the lights had been turned off. In the far corner was glowing green light. The laughter continued to echo through the room.  
  
Then Paxton realized what it was.  
  
It was a glowing green *skeleton*. Its skull was opening and he could see it move. The skeleton was laughing.  
  
"What the-?" he trailed off, stepping into the doorway. To his amazement the skeleton stood up. He could hear terrified murmurs coming from around the room and realized that the other doctors were still there. The bones were connected, moving and aligning with one another. He could see a small outline around the edge and realized that whoever it was had skin.but it was transparent or.something. Paxton couldn't quite figure it out. And it was emitting some kind of energy, a hot energy that Paxton could feel against his own skin.  
  
This guy was radioactive.  
  
"Hello Paxton," he heard his father's voice say, and to his horror the skeleton's jaw had moved with the words. The voice was the same, but it was different somehow. Menacing.  
  
He stared in horror, unable to speak.  
  
"See what this new Batman did to me?" his father continued to say, "see what he did? He ruined me! He turned me into this! Look at me! Look at me Paxton!"  
  
Paxton couldn't believe it. He took a step back as his father, Derek Powers, started laughing again, a low laughter that chilled his spine. He looked at the doctor, then back in the room as he took another step back. He tried to shut out the sight, closing his eyes, but the laugh was still there, haunting him, driving him crazy.  
  
He turned around and ran, back down the hallway, away from the room as far as he could possibly go, away from the laughter, away from his father.  
  
The same nurse who had helped him earlier stopped him down the hall, reaching out to touch his arm. "Sir, are you okay?" she asked, alarmed.  
  
He stopped, looking back quickly. "This gets out to *no one*," he told her. "I mean it. No one can find out about this."  
  
She nodded quickly, looking bewildered, as he took off running again. He had to get out. He had to get away.  
  
  
  
  
  
News of the new Batman had reached all stations that morning when Terry woke up. He had switched on his television while he was changing and nearly did a double take when he saw himself on the screen.  
  
Not him. The Bat.  
  
Apparently word had gotten out from the explosion at the medical lab. According to the news an illegal experiment had been underway and Batman had been there to stop it. The doctors had been interviewed, but as Terry listened realized that there had been no word of Derek Powers being there.  
  
There were only two deaths listed for that incident. First one was from Ted Williams, the test subject for this illegal experiment, and the other Dr. Fixx. Apparently when Batman tried to stop him from taking off Fixx had done something to the controls and the plane went down into the ocean, taking him with it. No one was sure whether or not the Batman got out, but only one body was found in the ocean last night.  
  
"What about Derek Powers?" Terri murmured, pulling a shirt on over his head. What happened to him?  
  
There could be only two explanations. One- somehow Powers had fixed it beforehand so that his name wouldn't be announced or found out, or two- he was alive.  
  
But that didn't count on why he wasn't listed as one of the people *there*.  
  
"Terry!"  
  
He looked up as his mother's voice rang through the apartment. "Yeah?" he answered back.  
  
"Someone's here to see you!"  
  
He frowned. Dana? Probably Dana. She had been worried sick about him lately and he didn't blame her. He hadn't been spending much time with her lately. Feeling renewed he pulled on his pants and quickly ran a comb through his hair, hoping he didn't look *too* bad.  
  
He went down the hallway, livening his steps, and was just about to call her name rounding the corner when he stopped.  
  
Bruce Wayne was there, sitting on one couch, a cup of coffee in his hands. His mother, Mary McGinnis, was sitting across from him, holding her own cup. Both looked up at him when he entered.  
  
"There he is," Mary said, getting up and setting cup down on the coffee table. "He's been sleeping in again- Terry, this is Bruce Wayne. But from what he's told me you already know that."  
  
Terry glanced quickly at Bruce Wayne, who was getting slowly to his feet and leaning against his cane. For a brief second Terry wondered where his dog was.  
  
"Hi," he said. He didn't know what else to say.  
  
"Good morning Terry," Bruce Wayne said warmly, and Terry nearly jumped from the difference in his voice. It was lighter, happier.nicer. He never imagined he'd hear a voice like that coming from the older man.  
  
'He's being nice to me because my mom's here'.  
  
"Morning," he answered stiffly, glancing at his mother and wondering what they could've been talking about while he was changing. "Anything I can do?"  
  
"Mr. Wayne has been telling me about how helpful you've been to him yesterday," his mother gushed almost excitedly, "and he's here to offer you a job!"  
  
Terry looked up quickly then, catching Bruce's eye. "Really?"  
  
"That's right," Bruce Wayne answered, nodding. It was so weird for Terry to watch him being sociable, he nearly had to fight to keep from cringing. "You were a big help yesterday and I'm here to offer you a job of assisting me in the future."  
  
"Okay---"  
  
"But remember, I only take the best and expect the most you can offer. I may come off as harsh sometimes but that is only because I take nothing less. Does this sound like something you can do?"  
  
Terry fought a small smile. Maybe he had been wrong about Bruce Wayne's assumptions about the night before. Maybe he really was worth something. He glanced at his mother who was standing there, smiling. It had been a long time since he'd had a decent job.  
  
"I think I can handle it," he answered.  
  
"Very good then Mr. McGinnis." Bruce Wayne put out his hand and Terry took it. His handshake was firm.  
  
"Welcome to my world." 


	12. Chapter 12

Batman made appearances through the city starting then, making his rounds late at night when most of Gotham was asleep.  
  
Most.  
  
In less than a month Batman had been introduced to more criminals than he thought possible in the Gotham City. He'd never heard of them before, never would've guessed that there'd be people like them. But they were there.  
  
Beside the usual Jokerz running rampant in the streets, there were gangs dressed to look like playing cards, a mad psychologist that could hypnotize anyone with a magic eyeball that he held in the palm of his hand- and a personal interesting favorite, Inque. She was a woman that could form into ink and disappear through vents and holes faster than Batman's flight.  
  
Bruce Wayne had made a permanent home in Terry's cowl, speaking to him when there really wasn't much Terry could do during a lull in the crime fighting, and giving him advice while he was sleuthing. He was still a hard teacher, but Terry stuck through it, leaving the cave when the night was young and returning around five o'clock in the morning and getting home in time for a good two hours of sleep. His mom never pressed to find out exactly what kind of 'work' Terry did for Mr. Wayne, and he appreciated it. Matt however, asked all the time, and Terry had to come up with lame reasons just to get him off his back.  
  
His social life was suffering a bit though. Being Batman had taken away all his evenings, and he never got to spend time with Dana anymore. She knew about his 'job' and everything, but she still missed him. And it was Max who carried the message to him one morning before school started.  
  
"She's feeling a bit---neglected, Terry," Max told him at his locker, "maybe you should start giving her a little more attention."  
  
"I'm sorry," Terry said, stifling a yawn, "I've tried explaining to her about the job-"  
  
"She knows about the job, but even that is taking up way too much of your time. A job can't possibly keep you that busy."  
  
*Nah. Try twenty-four hours a day busy.*  
  
"Okay Max, I'll talk to her, okay?" He closed his locker, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I got to go."  
  
He turned and walked down the hallway toward his classroom, leaving her standing there and watching him walk. She frowned slightly, then shrugged and turned away.  
  
Dana was the real problem with this whole dress-up shtick. It prevented him from really getting to spend time with her, and he knew she noticed. The problem was, he didn't know how before she'd find out the truth or worst, stop the relationship.  
  
He spent the next hour sleeping through History class. He scrawled down what notes he could remember then usually falling back into a half-asleep stupor as the teacher droned on. He was more than glad when the final bell rang and he could get out of there.  
  
"Hey Terry!"  
  
The voice rang out through the busy hallways and Terry stopped long enough to look around. In the distance he could see Jared coming his way.  
  
"Hey, what's up?" Terry greeted him, "I was just about to head over to the old man's place."  
  
"You've been busy, haven't you?" Jared asked, stopping in the middle of the hallway to talk to him. "You get paid well though, right?"  
  
"Well enough."  
  
"Well that's good. Think you can blow him off later this evening to join us at Salita's? Party the night away, I think you need it."  
  
Jared was right. Terry looked pretty sloshed at that moment. "I'll see," he told him. "If I can't I'll see you here on Monday."  
  
"Dana's going to be there."  
  
Terry hesitated. "Yeah I.figured she would. I'll see. See you later."  
  
"Yeah, later," Jared said, but he looked at Terry strangely as Terry turned and walked out through the front doors toward the parking lot. Terry hated having to leave his friends all the time, but it was one of the sacrifices he had to make.  
  
  
  
  
  
Later that night found Batman up in the sky in the Batmobile, making his rounds of the city. He had only made two stops that night. The first one was to save a woman from two mobs in the street, and the second was to stop the Jokerz from breaking into the Creds Bank.  
  
He checked the clock positioned above the front viewer. It was eleven o'clock at night. He felt his stomach hollow as he thought of his friends at Salita's, partying the night away. It felt like so long since he had been down there with him.  
  
But that wasn't what he was worried about at the moment.  
  
"Hey Bruce." He said.  
  
There was a long silence in the earpiece. Then the gruff voice answered.  
  
"What."  
  
"What led up to the stock market crash of '07?"  
  
Bruce sighed heavily. "What makes you think I know that?"  
  
"You were there, weren't you?"  
  
Bruce's voice tightened. "Keep your attention on the city, Terry."  
  
"I am. Don't you know what caused it?"  
  
"People withdrew their stocks. Enough said."  
  
"Yeah but-"  
  
"Concentrate on what's below you." Bruce was starting to sound exasperated. "We've gone through this several times."  
  
"But I have a history test tomorrow," Batman objected, "I need to know, that's it. Just the cause for the crash and then I'll stop asking questions I promise."  
  
"No."  
  
"What do you mean no?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Terry turned the bat mobile slightly, maneuvering smoothly between two commercial buildings. "I think you do."  
  
"I don't."  
  
"Sure you do. You're Bruce Wayne. You're supposed to know everything."  
  
"I do."  
  
"Then what's the reason for the-"  
  
"Terry."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Just drive."  
  
  
  
  
  
Max put down the phone angrily. She was standing in the front room of her house, dressed in her club outfit, and she had no ride to get to Salita's.  
  
She had tried calling Jared for a ride, but he was already gone and his cell phone was busy. Then she had tried Dana's, but her phone was off. Then she tried Terry's and for some reason he wasn't answering.  
  
Her parents weren't home and her sister was in a different state completely. So they weren't any help.  
  
She grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder, checking the cash credits inside. The club was only a couple of blocks away she could walk. Then maybe Jared could give her a ride home from the club later that night.  
  
Tucking her cell phone into her purse she turned and opened the front door, stepping out into the night.  
  
  
  
  
  
Dana sat at one of the tables in Salita's, her hands cupped around a drink in front of her. She was alone, watching the couples on the dance floor, looking dejected.  
  
She didn't know why she came here anymore. Usually it was to meet Terry and then they'd be the ones tearing up the dance floor, but not lately. Now he was usually nowhere to be seen, sleeping in class and then tearing off and disappearing after school. She had tried calling him so many times but she never got through. And during the few times she called his house, his mother always told her he was out or working with Mr. Wayne.  
  
"Just what is he *doing* for Mr. Wayne?" she wondered out loud.  
  
"I have no idea," a voice materialized out of nowhere, and she looked up as Jared sat down across from her. He looked slightly flushed, having just gotten off the dance floor. "That's what everyone would like to know," he said. "So what's up with you? Why aren't you having any fun?"  
  
She sighed, looking over the crowd. "It just doesn't seem.worth all that anymore."  
  
"Come on," Jared said comfortingly, "you don't need Terry to have fun. Just go out there. I'll dance with you."  
  
She smiled. "That's okay. I don't really feel like dancing."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Yeah. Well no. Not really."  
  
He laughed. "That's okay. If you feel up to it just come join us."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
He started to get up to leave, when a loud noise erupted from the front of the club. People screamed and Dana and Jared looked up, craning their necks to see what happened.  
  
"What happened?" she shouted over the yells.  
  
"Jokerz!" someone screamed through the crowd, and Dana's eyes widened, stepping back. A whole crowd of Jokerz was standing in a gaping hole in the middle of the wall where the entrance once was. The leader was standing in front, a wide grin on his face as he looked around.  
  
*"Yeeeeaah! Let's get this party started!"* He shouted. Then he burst into laughter.  
  
  
  
  
  
Batman was turning the mobile for another run over the northern sector of Gotham when the alarm started beeping on the control panel. He glanced down briefly long enough to look at the installed map directly below his eye level. A section of the map was lit, the red light pulsating just a couple of miles away from his coordinates.  
  
"Where is it?" Bruce asked through the cowl.  
  
Batman checked the read-outs and immediately recognized the location.  
  
"Salita's," he told him. "I'm on it."  
  
He jerked the controls a little rougher than he had intended and the mobile spun in the opposite direction. Regaining his course he took off toward the nightclub.  
  
  
  
  
  
No one was dancing.  
  
The music was still playing, but hardly anybody noticed. Dana had lost Jared somewhere in the crowd, and in the background she could hear Blade yelling something indistinct.  
  
"Hey!" The leader of the Jokerz shouted, jumping farther into the room. His make-up distorted his face, making his smile look wider than natural. Behind him more Jokerz were dressed the same; loud outfits, bright make-up, and all were carrying weapons.  
  
"What happened?" the leader asked loudly, running his fingers through his green hair. "The party died or something? You guys suck at having fun!"  
  
Behind him the Jokerz howled with laughter, even though Dana couldn't see what was so funny. The leader walked farther into the room and behind him the Jokerz followed, looking at the people with wide smiles.  
  
"Maybe we should.you know.liven it up for you?" The leader's smile widened even more (if it were even possible) and he held out what looked like a large firecracker. He sparked the end and it started fizzling in his hand.  
  
"Come on everyone!" he shouted, "party!"  
  
He threw the firecracker and it sailed through the air toward the DJ stand. People screamed and darted out of the way as the firecracker made contact with the stand. Sparks flew and it exploded, sending people staggering from the noise.  
  
One particular man tried to run for it. He hurried through the crowd toward the entrance, maybe trying to get around the Jokerz, but it didn't work. One of the bulkier, bigger Jokerz grabbed hold of him.  
  
"Hey," the Joker called out to the leader, "look."  
  
The leader looked back, startled to see the man. The man looked to be only twenty-five years old wearing a big black leather jacket. The leader raised his eyebrows.  
  
"This guy doesn't want to have any fun!" he said mockingly, jumping in front of him. "What should we do with him?"  
  
There was a ripple of indistinct murmurs through the crowd, but the leader seemed to listen only to what the Jokerz had to suggest. Reaching into his bright purple jacket pocket he took out a bright orange pair of scissors.  
  
"That's an excellent idea," he said to one of the Jokerz, snipping the scissors. The man was whimpering now, unable to break away from their hold. The leader stepped forward, the same smile plastered on his face.  
  
"Let's say we.make you a part of the gang!" he suggested merrily, snipping the scissors. "First let's fix that little smile of yours."  
  
"No," Dana whispered, stepping forward. She looked around, but no one was doing anything. Someone had to do something. In front of her she could see Jared watching. He was fidgeting and she had the feeling he was going to do something-  
  
The black blur came from nowhere. Dana almost wasn't sure what she had seen until it went past and the leader of the Jokerz was on the floor, scissors gone. She blinked in surprise as a figure appeared dressed in black, the emblem of a red bat emblazoned on its chest. She stared in disbelief as the figure attacked the Jokerz and for a moment she couldn't see what was going on through the mass of people in front of her.  
  
"What's happening?" she heard someone call out, and she turned to see Chelsea Cunningham standing beside her, craning her neck to see what was going on.  
  
"It's the Batman," she heard someone say, and she searched desperately to see him. The figure was almost too fast to see, but it looked like he was winning-  
  
Gunshots fired through the air.  
  
People screamed, throwing themselves to the floor. Dana could feel herself being pulled down but she hesitated, looking up as Batman vaulted up against the wall and over the crowd of Jokerz, releasing two batarangs from his wrist launchers.  
  
She couldn't stop staring. The site of him was fascinating.  
  
Batman didn't stop moving as the gunshots continued to fire. The leader was the one firing and he was shouting something as he followed the Bat through the air. Batman unleashed the jetpack from the bottom of his boots and propelled through the air, releasing wings beneath his arms to give him aviation. He twisted around and came flying back to the leader, slamming into him from the front.  
  
Dana could hear surprised gasps and murmurs coming from around, and she continued to sit there and watch as Batman moved, attacking the Jokerz. Before she knew it, half of them were down.  
  
The other half were running.  
  
Batman stood there for a moment, watching them run from the entrance. In the distance police sirens were wailing. The people in the nightclub were slowly sitting up, but Dana got to her feet.  
  
Batman surveyed the room, and his eyes rested on her. For a moment she couldn't breathe, feeling her breath catch in her throat as she felt his heavy gaze on her. Then, almost as quickly as it had happened, he was gone.  
  
He had released the jetpack from his boots again and had disappeared through the hole in the wall, lifting up into the sky. She tried to step forward, but her pathway was blocked as people started getting up. She stood there for a moment, unable to move, then looked around, trying to find her friends.  
  
  
  
  
  
Max quickened her pace. The club was just around the corner and the faster she got there, the sooner she'd get off the streets.  
  
She stopped suddenly when gunshots rang through the air. They were loud and close and for a moment she thought they had come from Salita's. Remembering that her friend's were already there, she started on a slow run, tightening her jacket.  
  
She had rounded the corner just in time to hear more gun shots and screams coming from the nightclub. A gigantic hole had been blown out of it and she could see the silhouettes of people from inside. Grunts came from inside along with flesh hitting flesh, and then a whole crowd of people came pouring out through the hole.  
  
She stood there, uncertain. What happened?  
  
Then she recognized the people coming her way. The Jokerz.  
  
Eyes widening, she looked around desperately for a hiding place. It was too late though and the gang was on top of her. And they had seen her.  
  
"Get her!" she heard someone yell, and hands grabbed on to her, pulling her into the dark alley. She screamed, struggling to fight back, but they were too strong and she couldn't get away.  
  
"No!" she screamed, "no! Help! Someone help me!"  
  
  
  
  
  
Batman was just climbing back into the bat mobile when he heard the screams.  
  
They were coming from just a couple of blocks away, toward Salita, and they sounded familiar.  
  
Through the darkness he could hear the shrewd laughter of the Jokerz, accompanying the screams.  
  
"What's going on?" Bruce asked suddenly through the transmitter.  
  
Batman strapped himself in and turned the mobile back toward Salita's. That voice sounded so familiar.who could it---?  
  
"Max," he realized suddenly, and he pushed forward on the controls. The bat mobile leapt forward and he tore through the sky in her direction.  
  
  
  
  
  
Paxton Powers was uneasy. It was the only way he could describe it.  
  
He paced the length of his office, stopping every few moments to look out the picture window overlooking Gotham or to glance at the closed door. His hair was tousled and his suit was slightly wrinkled. It looked like he hadn't slept in days.  
  
When he grew tired of pacing he tried sitting at his desk, but even that wasn't enough for him. He jiggled his feet, tapping his pen anxiously against the desktop. He didn't notice the paperwork strewn out in front of him. He hadn't looked at in for awhile. He didn't think he'd be able to concentrate if he did.  
  
Just when he thought he was going to go crazy the door opened. He jumped to his feet, smoothing the front of his shirt.  
  
Derek Powers stood in the doorway.  
  
To Be Continued--- 


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen  
  
  
  
Max did the first thing she could think of. She fought back.  
  
She had no idea what she doing. When she was twelve she had taken a defense class, and now she used what she had learned years ago. She swung her fists and her legs, feeling the satisfying crunch beneath her blows as she battled to get away. But something went wrong and she was knocked off balance.  
  
Chuckles surrounded her along with loud swearing as the Jokerz reached down to pull her back up.  
  
Everyone stopped moving miraculously and a light flared up in the dark alley. Max stood there in the center, surrounded by the gang. She didn't dare move, but her eyes darted around, searching for a way out.  
  
The light was coming from a match. One of the Jokerz was holding it up and its soft glow cast shadows down the alley. His smile was hideous.  
  
"Don't come any closer," Max said, fists up, "I'm warning you."  
  
The Jokerz burst out laughing and the young man holding the match guffawed. "You're warning us?" he asked. "We'll teach you what happens to a little lady who threatens us."  
  
Max's eyes widened slightly and she stepped back as the Jokerz started advancing. She knew how to fight, but she had no idea how to do it when outnumbered. She looked around for an opening but there was none. She was stuck.  
  
The closest Joker had the meanest looking club in his hand, and he raised it. She gasped and held out her arms to block it when-  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
She felt a gush of wind brush past her and she looked up as a black shadow appeared in front of her. For a split second she couldn't see anything, then the shadow moved.  
  
She watched in amazement as Batman moved through the alley, pushing back the crowd, sending strange weapons from his wrists and delivering punches and kicks at the Joker. She had barely any time to think when he turned toward her.  
  
"Go now!" he shouted.  
  
She blinked, surprised to hear his voice. She stepped back, too frozen to do anything right away, but it didn't matter. The Jokerz were already running.  
  
Batman stood there for a moment, making sure they were gone for good, before turning back to Max. She was standing there, staring at him, eyes wide.  
  
There was an awkward silence, then he spoke.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
She blinked. "Yeah, I-arrg."  
  
She had just noticed the gash on her right arm. She must have gotten it from the previous fight with the Jokerz when she had tried to escape. She lifted her arm and the cut caught the light.  
  
Batman started at the site and she looked at him almost apologetically. He reached into his belt and took out a small aid pack. He held it out and she backed up almost fearfully, not sure what he was doing. The red bat emblem shown on his chest and she stared at it.  
  
"Here," he said, handing it to her. "It should help."  
  
She had never heard a voice quite like that before. But there was something about it that was familiar. She couldn't put her finger on it. She took the aid pack.  
  
"Thanks," she stammered.  
  
Then he looked up and jumped into the air. She jumped as the jetpack flared at the bottom soles of his feet, and he propelled up into the air, disappearing over the roof and into the night.  
  
  
  
Barbara Gordan had reached 'Salita's' to find it in utter chaos. A huge gaping hole was exposed on one side, and people were swarming the vicinity. She had to fight to even find a person to tell her what had happened.  
  
"Jokerz attacked and tried to blow up the place-"  
  
"Grabbed this guy-"  
  
"Tried to kill him!"  
  
"People were panicking when-"  
  
"This black shadow came out of nowhere and stopped them-"  
  
"Couldn't stand a chance!"  
  
"It was the Batman!"  
  
Barbara had froze at that last statement and turned toward the last man who had spoken. He had been the DJ behind the record stand and he looked particular strange in his bright colored clothes and hat.  
  
"What did you say?" she asked suddenly.  
  
He blinked. "It was the Batman. I saw him, the ears and everything. I swear it was."  
  
"Are you absolutely sure?" she asked.  
  
Other people around them confirmed it and she sighed inwardly, looking toward the hole in the wall. She made a mental checklist, going over what she had heard. Jokerz had attacked, Batman had stopped them, and no one had gotten hurt.  
  
Yet.  
  
Tucking her pad away she turned toward her car. "Thank you for your time," she told the witnesses, "I'll be sure to contact you if needed."  
  
She had to be alone for awhile.  
  
  
  
  
  
Derek Powers reached up, touching his face gingerly. He looked the way he normally did, back to his white hair, the aging face, the deep piercing eyes---  
  
"It worked," Paxton said finally from behind his desk. He stepped out and approached him. "It---it *works*."  
  
"I know that," Derek snapped, annoyed. "I had to put it on, didn't I?"  
  
"I was just saying-"  
  
"I've fallen far behind," his father interrupted, walking around his son without a second glance and sitting down at his desk. He glanced at the papers strewn over the top. "Least you could've done was help your old man."  
  
"I tried," Paxton explained, "I didn't know all the complications and I was busy trying to raise money for you."  
  
"Learn to do more than one thing at a time, Paxton," Derek said crossly, looking up at him. Paxton swallowed hard. "At least you managed to get *some* things done. Or so I hope. Did you find out about this---winged person?"  
  
"Batman," Paxton replied. He rounded the desk to pull up a file on the computer. "I've done my research. Evidently he has been around for over twenty years. He dates back even to the late 1990's, even farther back."  
  
"Impossible," Derek said.  
  
"No, it's true," Paxton insisted. "That man, I checked what security videos we could of the lab. Most videos were destroyed but those that were not I managed to secure. He follows the same design, same emblem- look."  
  
He pointed to the screen where a fuzzy picture from the lab security camera. In the corner they could see a dark figure, a red shape on its chest.  
  
"That's Batman," he said almost excitedly.  
  
"Nothing to get excited about, Paxton," Derek Powers said almost sneeringly. "Did you *find* this costumed freak? Did you find out who he was?"  
  
"Well-"  
  
"Then you're work's not done. I want you to do that. And just that." He got to his feet. "I'm going to prepare for tomorrow's meeting. And I'm holding my trust on you Paxton." Their gazes met. "*None* of this gets out."  
  
  
  
  
  
Terry stopped at the Batcave long enough to change and collect his things. Then he made his way for the staircase.  
  
"McGinnis, report," Bruce said from his console.  
  
Terry stopped in the entrance and sighed outwardly. He turned around slowly, feeling his muscles ache slightly. "Nothing to report," he said.  
  
"Overall smooth night?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Found anything else on Derek Powers?"  
  
There was a long silence. Bruce had been spending the last couple nights working on finding Derek's location while Terry went out on patrol. Both men thought it very odd that Mr. Powers would disappear after the lab explosion, and they were trying to find all they could about it.  
  
"No."  
  
Terry stood there for a couple of seconds, waiting for any more responses. When he got none he left the cave.  
  
Millions of thoughts were going through his head. It was his first *real* public appearance. He had never done that before. First the nightclub where Dana and practically every other kid from school was then Max in the alleyway. Hopefully he hadn't done anything too obvious that would give him away. He had been working on speaking in a tone that wouldn't give him away. He found it to be very useful, especially when he had to interact with someone in the batsuit.  
  
He was done for the night. Now it was time for sleep.  
  
  
  
  
  
The next morning was an important one for Bruce Wayne. It was the monthly meeting he always had with fellow employers at Wayne Enterprises and it was the only meetings he ever attended.  
  
He sat at the front of the table in his usual place of honor, cane in hand even though he was sitting down. He could hear the soft murmurs from the other employees at the table, but he didn't say a word. He didn't exactly want to be there.  
  
The door opened then and everyone quieted down. Paxton Powers had entered the room. He was normally the one to lead the meetings, but that morning he seemed a bit hesitant. Bruce narrowed his eyes suspiciously as Paxton shifted his weight, his fingers fumbling.  
  
Behind him Derek Powers entered the room.  
  
No one else in the room seemed to find this remotely interesting at all, but Bruce Wayne nearly jumped out of his seat. He had to fight his impulses and stay glued into the seat, his grip hardening on his cane.  
  
"Good morning," Paxton addressed the group as a whole, "you all know my father, Derek Powers. He's just gotten back from a vacation trip- a very *well earned* vacation trip," he added, smiling.  
  
Derek was smiling as well, but it was fixed as Paxton sat down. Derek was going to be leading the meeting today. Bruce saw him reach up and touch his neck, almost as if checking to make sure something was there. Bruce frowned slightly.  
  
"Morning fellow employees," Derek Powers began, and he nodded in Bruce's direction, "and an especial welcome to Mr. Wayne, the manager and owner of Wayne Enterprises. I hope you find everything to your expectations."  
  
Bruce didn't acknowledge. He just continued to watch him, his grip slowly relaxing on his cane.  
  
"My son will be able to bore you all with company funding later," Derek said, "before that I would like to make a little announcement. I am very pleased to say that I will be hosting a company party tonight downstairs in the company hall. Black tie function, as it is, and I hope to see every one of you there including more."  
  
Bruce heard the mutterings again. Derek was smiling, now but Bruce leaned forward.  
  
"Exactly what is this party function for?" he asked, his deep voice carrying well across the room. Everyone else turned to look in his direction.  
  
"Simply to celebrate the success of the agricultural department of Wayne Enterprises," Derek replied casually, "we *did* find a cure."  
  
"Yes," Bruce agreed, "but killed two people and endangered several scientists in the progress."  
  
The room was silent. Derek was no longer smiling. For a long moment the tension between them was thick enough to be sliced. Bruce watched him intently and for a split second, thought he saw a strange green glow break out around his eyes. Bruce frowned.  
  
Paxton jumped up then and muttered incoherently in Derek's direction. Derek fumbled then, and pulled out a pair of sunglasses from his pocket. He put them on, but Bruce was still frowning.  
  
He knew he had seen something. He didn't know what, but he had seen it.  
  
"Disappointing really," Derek resumed after taking a deep breath. Paxton slowly sat back down. "I assume you wouldn't want to come to the party then, Mr. Wayne?"  
  
Bruce didn't answer.  
  
"Pity because I really hoped you would," Derek said. "After all.you *are* the owner of Wayne Enterprises." His smiled slightly.  
  
  
  
  
  
The school was buzzing with the news of Batman at Salita's the night before. Everywhere Terry went he could hear the name 'Batman' being brought up and he had to do a quick double take to see if he knew who was speaking. He hadn't even reached his first class and he had passed three separate groups talking about it.  
  
"Hey, Terry!"  
  
Terry sighed inwardly and turned as Max, Dana, and Jared approached him from down the hallway. He was too tired to converse with anyone. He just wanted to get to class. Forcing a smile he waved at them.  
  
"Terry, did you hear?"  
  
"Everyone's talking about it!"  
  
"Yeah, I heard," he replied, stopping in the hallway to talk to them. They had stopped conveniently right in the middle and they ignored the irritated looks other students gave them as they stepped around the group. "Exciting huh?"  
  
"You don't know the half of it," Dana gushed excitedly, pushing a lock of black hair behind her ear. "I *saw* him! He just came out of nowhere and stopped the Jokerz without any trouble-"  
  
"Extremely shway," Jared added, grinning. "It's too bad you weren't there, Terry."  
  
Terry shrugged and looked over at Max. To his surprise, she was looking at him quizzically and he secretly wondered if she had told anyone about her run-in with the Bat last night.  
  
"By the way, where *were* you?" she asked.  
  
Terry thought quickly. "I was.baby-sitting my brother. My mom had a business meeting."  
  
"I called your house last night," Max pointed out, "your mom answered and she didn't know where you were. I needed a ride to Salita's."  
  
Oh slag.  
  
He blinked, noticing the stares coming from Dana and Jared. "Yeah," he stammered, "that was probably when she came home. That was when Mr. Wayne called and I had to run over to his house."  
  
"Oh." She didn't sound at all convinced, but Jared and Dana were nodding.  
  
"It's okay," Dana said, "you'll see it on the news." Then she grew serious. "Terry, you remember about tonight, right?"  
  
He blinked momentarily, snagging quick glances at Max and Jared. They were looking at him.  
  
"Uh." he stammered, "yeah, it's-" He hesitated when he saw Max mouth something. Then he remembered. "Our one month anniversary."  
  
Dana grinned. "I knew you'd remember! I've reserved a table for us at this great Italian restaurant so everything's ready."  
  
Terry smiled hesitantly. "That's great Dana, what time?"  
  
"Seven o'clock, so don't forget okay?" she hugged him, "I want this night to be special."  
  
He hugged her back. "Of course I'll be there," he said, and gave himself a mental note not to let her down this time.  
  
  
  
  
  
Terry had figured he'd go through the training system once before getting ready for his date. He had several hours to kill. Wouldn't hurt anything.  
  
The training system had been set up by Bruce Wayne in the Batcave. It was similar to a danger room where holographic images would attack him. Sometimes he had to be careful because the holographic images had been wired to do damage. If he wasn't fast enough he'd be as knocked out as a pancake on the floor.  
  
After the quick training he stood there for a moment, breathing hard and working to gather momentum. He was sweating like a pig in his costume. He had moved the levels up in the danger room and he always wore the costume when he was in there. He pulled off his mask, running fingers through wet hair.  
  
He didn't know he wasn't alone until Bruce Wayne spoke.  
  
"Turn up to level nine."  
  
Surprised, Terry looked to see Bruce cross the cave toward the chair behind the computer console. "Are you kidding me?" he asked, "that was level seven and I'm already wiped out."  
  
"Then you're not good enough." Bruce settled into his seat, resting the cane against the console. Ace appeared from the darkness and curled at his master's feet.  
  
Terry couldn't believe this. "You can't be serious. I worked hard in there!"  
  
Bruce reached over and switched the level. "Try again. Fifteen minutes."  
  
Terry sighed. That wouldn't be so long, and he'd still have time to shower and get ready for his date. He put his mask back on and headed back in.  
  
The program started and he was no longer standing in the middle of the cave.  
  
Holographic images appeared, giving him the sensation of standing in the middle of a city street. He could almost feel the wind blowing against his back.  
  
Before he could stop to enjoy the sensation, he was attacked.  
  
He didn't even stop to think what was attacking him. He spun into action. If Bruce wanted more, he'd give him more. He went after each projected image, usually of a Joker or some other criminal image, pushing himself to be as fast as he could.  
  
Bruce remained at the computer console, watching him.  
  
Sometimes the program would give Batman objects to fight with. Normally Terry would go in empty handed and use whatever the program gave him. Sometimes it would be a staff, sometimes something familiar like batarangs.  
  
But this time nothing was appearing to his aid. And the attackers were coming in fast. This was worst then what Terry had gone through before. He had to push himself even harder to get out of the way and find an opening.  
  
Then his weapon aid appeared, lying inches away from him on the ground.  
  
He didn't even stop to think as he rolled, grabbing onto it. When he was back on his feet he was pointing the weapon at the closes enemy in front of him.  
  
Then he fired.  
  
He didn't even realize what he had done before it was too late. The person in front of him stopped still, and that's when he realized it was a holographic image of a woman. She hadn't even been attacking him, she had been just walking by.  
  
He looked down to see that he was holding a gun. The danger room had given him a gun as his aid.  
  
Almost as quickly as it had begun the images winked out. The sensation of wind against his body vanished and Terry was standing back in the middle of the Batcave. The gun was gone from his hands.  
  
Bruce wasn't looking at him.  
  
Terry was more confused then ever. "Bruce.what was that?"  
  
Bruce still didn't look at him. He was looking down at the computer console. "You fired on an innocent woman, Terry."  
  
Terry stammered. "I didn't know, it didn't happen before-"  
  
"You have to be prepared for the worst," Bruce finally looked at him. "And you used a gun and you fired without even looking at who you were firing at."  
  
"The program never gave me a gun before, I didn't know-"  
  
"And whose fault is that?"  
  
Terry couldn't believe it. He pulled off his mask. "Not mine! I told you I wasn't ready for this level!"  
  
"You have to be or else you can't carry the mantle."  
  
There was a stunned silence. Terry was a loss for words. Bruce turned away from him and switched on the computer screen as if dismissing him. Terry wasn't about to stand for that.  
  
"What is up with you?" he demanded, walking forward. "Did you decide to have a bad day or something? I didn't know okay, I wasn't ready for that! Run it again, I'll be ready now."  
  
"It doesn't matter."  
  
"The danger room is to help me prepare- now that I know I won't make the same mistake!"  
  
"No more, Terry."  
  
Now Terry was angry. "What makes you think you can do this to me? Everything was going fine until now. I saved people you know! I won't fire at the woman this time-"  
  
"That's not the point!"  
  
Bruce's voice rang through the cave, causing Terry to jump. He had never heard him *this* angry before.  
  
"You *never* use a gun! Batman does not use them! There are other means at fighting for safety! You don't use a gun!"  
  
Terry blinked. "Okay," he said quieter, "I won't-"  
  
"You did. You didn't even check to see what was in your hand. You fired without thinking. How do you think that makes you look?"  
  
"It was a mistake, I didn't know okay?"  
  
"Mistakes can get you killed. Don't make them."  
  
There was another long silence. Bruce had turned completely away now. Terry could feel his face burn with anger.  
  
"Fine," he said, grabbing his stuff that he had stored at the other end of the cave. "Fine. I'm out of here. I don't know what's wrong with you, I really don't, but I'm not about to stand here and take it."  
  
He changed quickly, throwing on his street clothes. Then he stalked out of the Batcave, leaving Bruce at the console.  
  
Bruce sat there in silence, elbows propped on the console, fingers together.  
  
Watching Terry had made him remember what had happened to him on his last night as the Bat.  
  
*'His finger played across the trigger and for a moment he thought about it. He actually thought about it.'*  
  
The memory was too hard to bear and he didn't want Terry to make the same mistake he did. The Bat never used that weapon before and he never will again. Bruce was going to make sure of it.  
  
Trying to clear his head from his anger he scanned the computer through his memos. Derek Powers' dinner party came up. He couldn't believe he had forgotten about it. He knew Derek wanted him to come, but Bruce didn't believe in the reason for it at all.  
  
Still.maybe he should go. Just to get him out of the mansion and thinking about other things.  
  
That decided, he stood up to get ready.  
  
  
  
Paxton Powers was distressed.  
  
"You can't seriously mean to do that Dad," he protested, "you can't!"  
  
"*Don't* tell me what I can or can't do!" Derek snapped, turning away momentarily from the mirror he had hung up in his office. Paxton stood by the desk, watching him, pale with anxiety.  
  
"Please Dad, I beg you to think about this-"  
  
"I already have," Derek interrupted, prodding at the skin around his eyes. He had tried to fix it back into place, but it wouldn't stick. The radiation off his bones was melting too quickly through it. "I do all I can for this society and what does it do to repay me? Turn me into a *freak of nature*! This cannot go overlooked, they deserve what they're going to get tonight."  
  
"But to kill all of them at the party-?"  
  
"It's what I'm going to do, Paxton!" Derek yelled angrily, pulling at the skin on his face. It came off in his hands, revealing the green glow beneath. A pain of sorrow racked through him as he looked at his reflection, revered at monster he had become.  
  
Paxton winced at the sight of his father and stepped back. Seeing his reaction Derek turned away from the mirror toward him, the flesh still hanging from his hands.  
  
"I will do what I have to do, Paxton," he said, his voice dangerously soft, "and *you* will handle the most important part of it."  
  
Paxton swallowed. "What?"  
  
"Yes, Paxton." Derek started stepping toward him, and Paxton backed up, feeling heat coming from his father's radioactive body beneath the false skin. "A *very* important part."  
  
He grinned, his skin falling away from his face.  
  
To Be Continued. 


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN  
  
  
  
Terry had a hard time concentrating on the dinner at hand.  
  
It wasn't because of Dana's especially low cut dress that was distracting. Nor was it the violin music playing in the background at the restaurant. And it wasn't the magnificent view through the picture window where their booth was situated, giving them a perfect bird's eye view of Gotham City.  
  
It was Bruce Wayne.  
  
It made him reconsider everything he had done to take on the Batman mantle. He knew he wanted to carry on the sign. He knew he wanted to fight crime and keep the city safe. He knew all those things.  
  
But it never occurred to him how much he *didn't* know about his boss.  
  
Bruce never opened up to him before. Terry knew nothing about him. Didn't know what happened to the other Bat members, didn't know why he quit the mantle.  
  
He had just taken the job blindly. Didn't even consider the complications that went with it.  
  
Dana seemed to notice something was bothering him because she took his hand and asked, "Terry, are you okay? You seem kind of distant tonight."  
  
He blinked and looked away from the window and back to her. She looked gorgeous. She had pulled her hair back and was wearing a tight little white dress. He smiled. "I'm sorry, I was just thinking. What were you saying?"  
  
"I was saying that we should go out more often. I never get to see you. I know you have your job and everything and I understand-"  
  
"I know," he interrupted, "and I promise I'll try to get in more quality time with you. It's been busy, but I'm sure it'll calm down."  
  
She smiled. "I hope so. It's nice being out with you."  
  
"Yeah, It's nice being with you too."  
  
She grinned, raising her menu. "So, what are you going to have? I can't decide between the lobster and the---"  
  
Her voice faded away as Terry caught something through the window. No longer paying attention to her he squinted his eyes, trying to see through the reflection in the glass.  
  
A light was shining out of a balcony several tall skyscrapers away. Normally that wouldn't have caught his attention, but it was the sign the light was emitting. It shone up into the sky, forming a shape in the clouds.  
  
Terry's breath caught in his throat. It was the sign of the bat.  
  
"Terry? What do you suggest I get?"  
  
He looked away from the window, distracted. "I'm sorry Dana, I'll be right back."  
  
She looked alarmed. "Where are you going?" she asked as he got to his feet.  
  
"Bathroom," he muttered, hurrying away. He started moving in the direction of the restroom, but as soon as he was out of sight from Dana he hightailed for the nearest exit.  
  
  
  
  
  
Max had been driving through the city in her car. She was on her way to her sister's house downtown to help her decorate and she had to take a detour when the traffic got to heavy. Unfortunately the detour she had taken was equally packed and she was sitting in traffic at a standstill.  
  
"This is the last time I help *her* out again," she muttered, "leave the house at seven-thirty- I could've been doing something."  
  
She reached over to grab her purse for her cell phone. She might not make it until late.  
  
When she sat up again Terry McGinnis was crossing the street among the cars, slinging a backpack over his shoulder.  
  
She froze, watching him. He seemed disturbed and kept glancing up at something in the sky. He wore a dress shirt and pants and suddenly she remembered the date he was supposed to go on with Dana.  
  
But he was leaving the restaurant. What was he doing?  
  
She was so caught up in watching him that she didn't notice traffic had started up until the cars behind her began honking. Instead of going toward her sister's house, though, she turned the car in the opposite direction and started following him.  
  
Terry had been acting far too strangely lately. It was time to figure out what he was doing.  
  
  
  
Paxton stood on the balcony outside his apartment nervously, glancing at the strobe light resting on the rail. He had gotten a piece of heavy paper to project the image of the bat, and now he hoped it had at least attracted *someone's* attention.  
  
He looked worse than usual. His tie was loose and draped around his neck. He was still wearing his office suit and had not yet changed into his dinner party clothes. It wouldn't start for another hour.  
  
He started pacing, hands behind his back. He didn't know what he was doing. All he knew was that he had to contact Batman somehow. And he had read up enough history to know how they did it in the past.  
  
Just when he was thinking of shutting of the light and giving up, the strobe blew up.  
  
He jumped with surprise and turned toward the sound. The light had completely smashed, two batarangs lying the midst of the mess.  
  
*He's here*.  
  
"Next time, use e-mail," a gruff voice spoke, and Paxton whirled around to see the shadows against the building shift. The red enigma of the bat stood out in the darkness.  
  
"I didn't know how else to contact you," Paxton explained nervously.  
  
The voice didn't change. "What do you want?"  
  
"I didn't know you were real," he began, "I wasn't sure if it would work, if you were a myth or not."  
  
"What. Do. You. Want."  
  
"I wanted to warn you."  
  
There was a short silence. Batman's outline was slowly coming into form and Paxton relaxed a bit. "It's about Derek Powers."  
  
"What about him."  
  
"You- you were at the lab when it blew up. You saw Derek Powers there. He's not dead if that's what you think- but maybe you already know that." Paxton fumbled around for the words. "He's going to do something."  
  
Batman stepped forward, and something in his action seemed urgent. His voice confirmed it. "Where is he?"  
  
"I don't know right now, but there's going to be this party. I didn't know who else to tell. He's going to kill everybody."  
  
He had moved faster than he could blink. Before Paxton could move Batman was already grabbing on to his collar and pulling him forward.  
  
"*Where?*" Batman yelled.  
  
Paxton gasped for breath, eyes wide. "I don't know! It's going to happen at Wayne Enterprises!"  
  
Batman's eyes widened momentarily and released him. Without another word he turned to leap off the balcony-  
  
Paxton Powers smashed the strobe light as hard as he could against the back of Batman's head.  
  
Batman staggered for a moment, falling back onto the balcony. Paxton stepped back quickly, dropping the strobe light and reaching into his pocket. Time seemed to slow as he watched Batman stand back up, moving back to face him. Until now Paxton considered him only a shadow, a menacing vigilant overrunning Gotham. It never occurred to him there was a real person in that suit until he had staggered from the blow. Moving quickly, feeling adrenaline take over, he pulled out the syringe and plunged it through Batman's suit. The sharp needle went through with little difficulty, and Batman jerked away.  
  
The fist was in his face before he could even react and Paxton flew across the balcony. He tried to move but Batman was already on top of him, grabbing him by the neck and pulling him to his feet. Paxton gasped for breath, feeling the strong grasp in Batman's hand. It was more than human strength.  
  
"Please-" he gasped, "don't hurt me!"  
  
  
  
  
  
Max had lost him.  
  
She couldn't believe it. She had been following him for five blocks when Terry had magically disappeared. She had even gotten out of her car to check but he was nowhere in sight.  
  
Now she was standing at the bottom of an apartment building, leaning against her car and calling her sister up on her cell phone. Her sister wasn't happy.  
  
"What do you mean you can't come?" Melanie demanded, "I made dinner!"  
  
"Yeah, I'm sorry," Max said, looking around warily. "I got kind of lost in traffic."  
  
"Well where are you? I'll come pick you up. You can follow me back to my place."  
  
Max hesitated, biting her lower lip. "I'm at the northwest corner of Grant and Main under." she glanced up, looking for some sort of indication of where she was, "the Maybell Hotel."  
  
"Way over there? Honey, you're completely in an opposite direction of where I am." There was a heavy sigh. "Okay, fine, I'll come get you. Stay in the car, it's getting late. Or at least get somewhere where I can find you."  
  
"Okay," Max nodded, "In the meantime I packed some wallpaper designs that we can check out when I get there---" she trailed off suddenly.  
  
Something was going on above her.  
  
She could hear loud smacks and the breaking of glass and she looked up, straining to see through the darkness. Directly above her she could hear voices, indistinct but menacing. Then she heard a loud voice, pleading for something.  
  
"Please, don't hurt me! Please-!"  
  
Then there was a thud and silence.  
  
Horrified, Max lowered the phone. Her sister's voice could be heard calling her name, but she ignored it.  
  
Someone was hurt up there.  
  
  
  
  
  
The party was dull.  
  
Bruce knew that the minute he walked in, wearing his best suit and jacket, cane in hand. He stood out among the other employees, walking around wearing fancy outfits and sipping champagne. In one corner were the refreshments. In the other was a string quartet, playing an especially boring piece.  
  
"Some gathering, isn't it?" a voice spoke up, and Bruce looked over to see Derek Powers standing next to him. The man looked especially stiff that night, and now that he was up close Bruce noticed a strange glow coming from his skin. He wore an especially expensive Armani suit, topped with silver cufflinks and navy blue tie.  
  
"Apparently," Bruce growled in response. "I came Derek, just like you asked. Now what? Twister? Bridge? What are we here for?"  
  
"Oh, you'll see," Derek assured, patting him on the shoulder. "You'll see. In a few minutes, as a matter of fact, I'll be making an announcement. I'm sure you'll be especially interested in what I have to say. Stick around, mingle a little."  
  
With that he left, disappearing among the crowd of workers. Bruce watched him for a moment with narrowed eyes. Then he scanned the room.  
  
There were guards standing at every exit, hands crossed and watching the guests. Bruce frowned.  
  
Why all the security? What was going on?  
  
  
  
  
  
Terry couldn't be any more angrier with himself.  
  
He didn't know what Paxton had given him on the balcony. All he remembered was turning around and getting socked in the back of the head. Before he could even turn around a sharp stab had erupted in his side and when he had tried to knock Paxton down, something had happened.  
  
He had passed out, that was what.  
  
But it hadn't been for long. Fifteen minutes maybe, tops. If Paxton had tried to kill him, he hadn't been very successful. Then again, maybe it was to get him out of the way.  
  
But for fifteen minutes?  
  
Cursing softly to himself, Terry tried to work his way free. Normally it wouldn't have been too hard, Paxton had only used handcuffs, but something in his mind was wrong. He couldn't think straight and his vision was off.  
  
Must be the poison or whatever Paxton had given him.  
  
It took several more tries to work his way free before he realized what was wrong. His body wasn't flexing properly.  
  
Something in the poison must have frozen his nerves or stiffened them. That didn't help the disorientation in his mind at all.  
  
He had to get out. But how? He couldn't move, his mind wasn't straight. He could barely tell where he was. Squeezing a section of his glove he managed to make his vision screen go infrared.  
  
The room around him lit up in a harsh red glow and he saw the outline of a bathtub and sink. Across from him was the door. It was closed so he couldn't see anything past it.  
  
Great.  
  
He started running a list of solutions through his head when he heard a voice. He froze, listening. He couldn't strain because his hands were behind him against the wall, but he could hear the voice ringing clearly through the room outside. A girl's voice.  
  
"Hello? Hello! Anyone here?"  
  
His eyes widened, recognizing it.  
  
It was Max's. 


	15. BB15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN  
  
  
  
  
  
Derek was starting to feel edgy as he glanced around the room for his son. He had to make several trips to the restroom already just to make sure his make-up was still sticking, and when he came out his son was still nowhere to be seen.  
  
'Let's just hope he got rid of the bat', he thought. He had been doing his research on this new menace in Gotham. Collected newspaper articles, searched the net, anything he could think of.  
  
Then Paxton entered the room. He looked slightly disheveled as he glanced around, trying to find his father. Derek got to him first.  
  
"Where were you?" Derek hissed, approaching him, "I've been waiting!"  
  
"Sorry, it took longer than I thought," Paxton replied nervously, straightening his tie. "Have I missed anything?"  
  
"Obviously not," his father snapped, "did you handle him?"  
  
"Yes, drugged him and tied him up."  
  
"I'm sending a squad over there to make sure. I don't want him around anymore."  
  
Paxton blinked. "What? They'll kill him!"  
  
"That's not my problem. I want you out of here. Now. Get out."  
  
"Why? What are you going to do?"  
  
"None of your business. Leave now."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
Then Derek turned around and looked at him for the first time since the accident. It had been so long since he had looked at him in a fatherly way and Paxton was caught off guard.  
  
"Please," he said quietly.  
  
Paxton stared back, but his father was already turning away and calling on the attention of a different employee. He could feel the sweat build up on his brow and he turned to leave the main room.  
  
This was wrong. This was all wrong, he couldn't let his father do this. He wasn't even *sure* what his father was planning on doing. All he knew was that it was something bad, worse than what he'd thought before.  
  
Security stood at every door and Paxton slipped past them effortlessly. Ever since the accident Derek Powers had become dangerous- too dangerous. He had followed along with his games long enough. He wasn't going to put up with it any longer.  
  
Taking out his cell phone and making sure he was well out of sight from his father, he dialed.  
  
Watching him from inside the parlor was Bruce Wayne, not taking his gaze away as he stood leaning against his cane.  
  
  
  
  
  
Max, armed only with the mace she packed in her purse, headed up the hotel stairs toward the room directly above her car. She had no idea where she was going or how she expected to even find the room, but a chance of luck brought her close.  
  
Broken glass littered the hallway just outside one of the rooms. She stepped around the mess carefully and found the door ajar. Looking around warily she pushed it open.  
  
Inside was completely dark.  
  
She stuck her head in the doorway, the can of mace in her hand. "Hello?" she called out timidly, feeling her heart race. "Hello! Anyone in here?"  
  
There was silence for a split second, then the sound of shuffling came from within. She uttered a gasp and jumped back, her heart beating even faster. Was someone inside? Maybe she should go.  
  
Then there was another sound, only this time it sounded like someone falling down. She hesitated before pushing the door open all the way and feeling along the wall for the light switch. She found it and flicked it on.  
  
The room lit up in bright florescent lights, revealing a bed in the far corner next to a balcony window and dresser. To her left was a doorway leading into another room.  
  
"H-hello?" she wavered, "anybody here?"  
  
Another shuffling sound. Behind the door.  
  
Eyes wide, she reached out gingerly for the door handle. She could feel her body tremble with anticipation as she positioned the can of mace, twisting the door handle.  
  
Then she stopped. What was she, crazy? She shouldn't even be up here, she should be back on the ground in her car, waiting for Melanie to come find her. She shouldn't be trying to stick her nose around in other people's businesses.  
  
Yeah but---someone was hurt. She heard it, she was sure of it.  
  
Taking a deep breath she pulled the handle and pushed the door open.  
  
Nothing.  
  
She froze, looking around. It was a bathroom. A tiny bathroom with enough room to fit a toilet, a sink, and a tub. She reached over and turned on the light.  
  
No one was there.  
  
  
  
  
  
Terry held his breath expectantly, trying not to make a sound as Max stood in the doorway, looking around the bathroom. He had managed to free his hands just before she opened the door, and as fast as he could flipped the camouflage switch on his belt.  
  
He didn't dare move from his spot but he stood up, standing against the shower curtain. He could feel her eyes upon him, but she didn't acknowledge seeing him.  
  
She stepped further into the bathroom, setting her can of mace aside on the bathroom sink. He watched her, trying to back up. She was effectively blocking his way out, and if he were to even try to move she'd most likely feel something.  
  
Just when he thought she was going to collide with him, she stopped, face inches away from his. She was breathing softly, eyes running across the shower curtain. He could tell she was trying to work up the move to open it but he couldn't move out of the way. He could smell her perfume and it smelled distinctly of raspberries.  
  
It was getting hard for Terry to control his breathing. It made him nervous being this close to her and wondered briefly if she could hear his heart racing. If she found him out he'd be a goner.  
  
The seconds passed like hours and Terry started to wonder if she knew he was there. If she did he'd have to move soon. The stupid bathroom wasn't even wide enough for two people to walk side by side. This was going to be difficult.  
  
A loud noise erupted from behind them suddenly, and Max spun around. Someone was kicking the apartment door down.  
  
"Oh sh-" she began, but Terry didn't let her finish. He grabbed on to her and spun back, tearing the shower curtain off its rail and falling backward into the tub.  
  
Just as the gunshots rang out.  
  
Max screamed, throwing her hands over her head. Terry tried to cover her as best as he could without getting shot himself, and glanced up long enough to see who was attacking them.  
  
Two burly men stood in the doorway, guns in their hands. They could see the lump in the bathtub that was Maxine, but they couldn't see Batman. They didn't care. They kept shooting.  
  
Fighting the pain in his head, Terry pulled himself out of the tub and released his Batarangs. The precision was exact enough to knock the weapons from their grips, but the attackers weren't finished. They advanced.  
  
Batman wasn't finished either. He pushed forward, igniting the blasters beneath his boots to give himself more levitation as he slammed into them. At the same time his camouflage switch went off and he appeared.  
  
The two men were caught off guard and sent flying back into the main bedroom of the apartment. Batman flipped and landed gracefully in the middle of the room and quickly grabbed the man nearest him. He cried out as Batman threw him up against the wall.  
  
"Who sent you?" Batman demanded angrily. Behind him the other man was raising his gun, but Batman simply swung his free arm, sending a batarang flying into the weapon. The gun sparked and the man cried out, dropping it.  
  
"Don't make me ask again!" Batman yelled.  
  
Behind him Maxine was climbing up from the bathtub and grabbing the can of mace from the bathroom counter. She looked terrified as she hid behind the door, watching them.  
  
The man against the wall grunted something, trying to pull free, but Batman didn't release his grip. Finally he uttered "Powers!"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"To kill you-"  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
"I don't know!"  
  
Batman pulled the man forward, but just to gather enough momentum to slam his head back against the wall. Maxine winced from the blow and stepped back, but all she did was attract the other attacker's attention.  
  
"Guess!" Batman said angrily.  
  
A scream split the air then, and Batman turned his head just as the other man attacked Maxine. Eyes wide, he shoved his informer against the wall hard enough to knock him out and went after Max.  
  
The man had attacked her, shoving her hard into the bathroom. She cried out, tripping over the bathtub rim and falling inside. The curtain ripped from the bar ahead and came crashing down on her, covering her from sight. She screamed, trying to get away, when Batman arrived, smashing into her attacker from the back. She looked up just in time to see both men crashing against the wall-  
  
And right through it.  
  
The force of the attack was strong enough to blow a hole in the wall, and Batman and the attacker disappeared in a cloud of dust and debris. She scrambled to her feet, shoving the curtain aside as she heard noises coming from the room beyond.  
  
Then silence.  
  
She stood there, uncertain of what to do next. Had Batman won? Or had the attacker won? What if he came back through that hole for her? Nervously she held out her mace, popping the top. And waited.  
  
There was a shuffling sound, and she jumped back, trying desperately to see through the darkness in the hole. The shadows shifted and-  
  
Batman stepped back into the bathroom, dirt covering his ink-black costume. She stared at him in amazement, the forgotten mace still raised.  
  
Batman dusted himself off for a moment and looked back the way he had came. Then he looked at her.  
  
"Are you okay?" he asked.  
  
She blinked, searching desperately for her voice. "I-I-"  
  
"Get out of here and somewhere safe," he commanded suddenly, pushing past her out of the bathroom. She stared after him in surprise.  
  
"What was that all about?" she demanded, finally finding her voice. She lowered the mace, tucking it into her pocket. "That was." she searched for the right word,---interesting."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
He was looking around now, apparently for something important. She watched him as he bent down over the first attacker, lying motionless on the floor. Batman bent down, going through his jacket and examining the weapon on the floor. Maxine noticed the batarang sticking out of it and she secretly wondered if it were real metal or if it were-  
  
"I have a lead," Batman spoke up suddenly, and when Maxine looked up he wasn't talking to her. He was still bent over the man, but a finger was at his ear. He stayed there for a moment, listening for something. A moment later he stood up, looking puzzled.  
  
"No answer?" she asked out loud, then quickly wished she hadn't as he stood back up and gave her a look.  
  
"Do you have a way home?" he asked.  
  
"Y-yes-"  
  
"Then go home." Still watching her, he pulled the batarang out from the gun and stored it back onto the launcher installed on his wrists. "Now."  
  
Before she could answer, he had gone toward the balcony and was gone, igniting the jet boots and flying off into the night. She stood there, watching him. The way he moved, the way he fought those men and the way he spoke it was absolutely.  
  
"Wow," she commented.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Terry had about a million things on his mind at that moment.  
  
First it was the worry he had for Bruce Wayne. Amazingly enough the old man wasn't at his normal post behind the Bat computer. Maybe he was mad over their argument or something, but whatever it was he wasn't there. And if Terry didn't know where he was, he didn't know what he was going to do.  
  
Second was Max. What in the world was she doing up there that night? She lived across town, why was she over there? Did she know he was there? Had she seen him somehow? He had been careful, or so he thought.  
  
He had never felt so paranoid like the way he did when he and Max were in the bathroom. She was so close, had she felt him? Heard him breathing? It was bad enough that his identity was creating problems for him at school, but now that he's had a full on confrontation with someone he knew so well.  
  
And then there was Dana. Had she left the restaurant by now? Was she mad at him? When would he be able to call her and apologize? At this moment he didn't know when he was going to have the chance to do anything.  
  
There was only one place he could go, and that was back to the cave. No matter how angry Bruce was with him.  
  
  
  
  
  
Barbara Gordan didn't have any problems getting into Wayne Manor. The dog, Ace, knew her well enough, and also knew better than to mess with her. She may be a good several years older, but she still knew how to defend herself when worse came to worst.  
  
She sat down in front of the monitor. She knew the computer like the back of her hand. She had spent a good amount of her time on it already.  
  
"Computer," she said, and a split second later the computer flashed to life, bringing up the opening screen of the Batcave program. "Files. Batman."  
  
The computer whirred, images flying faster than she could read them. As she waited she glanced around.  
  
The cave didn't look any different than it had when she had left Bruce. She could see the glass cases holding the batsuits, and her gaze rested longer on the batgirl suit than the others. Those were the only cases she could at least tolerate.  
  
It was all the cases containing costumes of their arch enemies that really got her. It had been one of the first signs she had read from Bruce Wayne back so many years ago. The signs that told her that the mantle was getting out of hand and that it was growing into more than a night job. An obsession.  
  
She rubbed her eyes momentarily before putting her glasses back on and concentrating on the screen. The monitor had come to a still on one of the files. She read it quickly.  
  
"Profiles, latest," she said.  
  
The computer whirred again, but this time it was slow enough for her to catch the faces of the photographs that came up. She recognized all of them until-  
  
"Computer, stop," she said suddenly, and the screen did, stopping on Dick Grayson's profile. That wasn't the one she wanted. "Go back," she said, and it did, stopping on Catwoman's profile. "Back," she repeated, "back. Back. Stop."  
  
A face appeared on the screen, a new face but vaguely familiar. He was young, barely out of high school, with jet black hair and dark eyes.  
  
"Got you," she whispered, narrowing her eyes at the picture.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
The voice came out of nowhere and she whirled around, instinct taking over. She turned just as a dark shadow moved behind her and she swung her arm, hitting it.  
  
The same voice cried out, not in pain but in surprise, and jumped back. That was when she saw him.  
  
Batman.  
  
He was tall and skinny, but muscularly proportioned. She recognized the model of the suit, with its long skinny bat ears and red emblem across the chest. He was looking at her, surprised, and she did the first thing she had been wanting to do for years.  
  
She attacked. 


End file.
